Lost in You
by UniqueElla
Summary: Reality is ugly. Cruel. It constantly brings them down and they struggle to climb up the slippery ladder of misfortunes and survive. In a world of pain and countless family issues, somehow they manage to find an escape in each other. With the help of a nosy brother, an internet platform for posting stories and Dawn's love for reading. Ikarishipping, AU.
1. Of Boring Beginnings

_**I'll keep it short: new story, AU, ikarishipping, I don't own Pokémon. Enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 1 - Of Boring Beginnings**_

"You remember that favor you owe me?"

Paul looked up from his book to see his brother smirking at him. If the devilish glint in his eyes was any indication, what was to follow couldn't be good.

He coughed and tried to weave some nonchalance in his voice. "I don't remember such a thing."

Reggie grinned slyly. Oh, no. "So you're saying I should leave cousin Eileen to gush all over you on the next family reunion, which is, if I dare remind you, just next week?"

Paul sighed, knowing his brother wasn't kidding one bit. He'd really leave him to deal with the hectic girl all on his own this time if he didn't oblige with whatever thing he wanted him to do.

"What do you want?" He asked with exasperation, closing his eyes and hoping to the stars that what his brother had planned for him wasn't as completely idiotic and bothersome as usual.

The things Reggie ordinarily asked of him were out of pure concern for his own well-being, but the older brother skillfully managed to mask them all as tedious tasks and blackmailed Paul into complying into what he thought to be best for him. Usually, they were simple-sounding ones, but irritating and completely pointless in Paul's opinion, like being more sociable or wearing more than one color (which was, without exceptions, black).

Sensing that Reggie did all those things out of concern and annoying brotherly love, Paul usually caved in and as a plus, got protection from his crazed over-affectionate cousin in return. The teenager shuddered at the thought of Eileen. She had gone so bonkers over him in the past two years that she attacked him in ferocious hugs every time she saw him, in a terrifying mixture of an overly-excited fangirl with uncontrollable hormones, and an old aunt, who'd just seen her favorite nephew and had the irresistible need to pinch the hell out of his cheeks.

However, as much as the girl terrified him, the evil grin that Reggie currently had on his face made him wonder if putting himself through his still unknown wicked scheme was worth another Eileen-free family reunion.

The grin widened and Paul almost felt the urge to wince. It was against his nature to show any weakness, so he forced himself to keep on a poker face, while in reality Reggie's behavior was beginning to really scare him.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office."

There, it was out.

Paul almost did a double take. "You did what?" He sputtered out disbelievingly.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office." Reggie repeated infuriatingly calmly.

Paul tried really hard not to hit him as he paraphrased his question through gritted teeth. "What. For."

"For you, dear brother. The favor I'm asking of you entails you attending said session."

"No way in hell." Paul spit out with disdain. He'd rather spend the following three years with Eileen clutching his arm than visiting a fucking psychiatrist.

"Don't dismiss my offer in such a chop-chop way. This isn't the kind of therapist you're thinking about, he's much more of a counselor than anything else that might have crossed your mind."

"That doesn't make me want to see him any better. You're the one with the mental issues, make good on your precious appointment yourself."

Reggie sighed tiredly and rubbed his temples. "Paul, you don't understand. I don't think there's something wrong with you or your head, I just want you to talk to somebody and seeing as talking to friends isn't an option, I went for the closest thing to it."

"I'm not. Going. To a therapist." Paul pronounced each bit clearly and sharply in hopes of getting it through his brother's thick skull.

Reggie laughed dryly. He certainly wasn't one to take a hint. "Of course you are, little bro. Now, you better get ready, you have to be there at four." With a tone of finality and smugness, he returned his attention back to the magazine about freaking _knitting_ that lay in his lap, leaving an unimpressed Paul to glare at him. He could swear, nothing in an apron was supposed to be this malicious.

"I told you I'm not going." The younger brother redirected his attention to his own reading mater rather demonstratively.

Reggie just smirked, but didn't answer. Paul narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not expecting his brother to drop his demands so easily. His smirk, in particular, was what gave him away and made the teenager stand on his guard. There was some sort of trap prepared for him, he was sure of it.

"What are you boys entertaining yourselves with?"

Paul's eyes widened with sudden realization as his mother made her entrance in the living room, smiling warmly at her sons. Reggie looked up from the magazine and gave his brother an evil smirk, confirming his suspicions.

_Don't you dare. _Paul stared at his brother threateningly, but the annoying smirk didn't leave the elder's face as he opened his mouth.

"Actually," Reggie spoke with barely-concealed self-satisfaction in his voice. "Paul and I are just getting ready to go out. We're going to a counselor to work on his communicative skills."

"Ah!" The woman clasped her hands together. "What a wonderful idea!"

Reggie gave Paul a self-righteous grin and the younger sibling knew he had been had. There was no way for him to oppose the idea now that his mother had been introduced to it and had, apparently, liked the shit out of it.

_A dirty card to play, Reggie. _Paul glared at his brother one more time and got up to get ready for the now inevitable visit to the therapist's office. On his way out of the living room, he stopped to give his mother a hug.

"Are you feeling fine?" He inquired, letting a little of his concern seep in his voice. His mother smiled at him as she pulled back.

"You don't have to worry about me, Paul. I've been doing a lot better." He didn't believe her. Not by a long shot. She was still in the dressing gown she hadn't changed out of for days, her hair was disheveled and unwashed, her face gave away continuous nights of sleep deprivation – bags under the eyes, greyish skin, tired gaze.

If that was what 'doing better' looked like, Paul didn't like it one bit. He decided not to confront his mother though, sensing that she wouldn't be able to hold it together anymore and might have another breakdown. Instead, he managed to give her a crooked smile, wondering what he could do to keep her from slipping back into her depression. He really didn't know what to do to help her, so tried to at least fulfil all of her wishes, even if it meant he had to carry out his brother's crazy schemes.

The woman smiled back and lifted her skinny arm to ruffle his hair with affection. "I know you don't like it, but this visit to the counselor might prove to be really beneficial for you, Paul."

"I know, mom." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before making his way out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Reggie looked after him with a smile. Seeing that he would really do anything for the sake of their spent mother, he almost felt bad for using it against him. But it was for Paul's own good, after all.

* * *

Hours later, Paul found himself staring at his laptop's screen at a loss for what to do. The blank Word document he had opened stared right back at him mockingly as his fingers grazed over the keyboard aimlessly.

_"I choose to keep my distance from people, but that doesn't mean I have a disorder. It's my choice."_

_"Ah, I see."_ Paul remembered how Dr. Palmer had leaned back to the comfort of his armchair and had pressed his fingers together in a contemplative pose. _"Well, young man, if you're truly completely fine with your life the way it is, I'm not sure you need my consultation."_

Paul had turned to leave at that point but had been stopped by the voice of the therapist.

"_Though you're assigned the whole session, Paul. It'd be a pity if we didn't utilize the time."_

He had thought that it was a tremendous waste of time, but he hadn't said anything, so the counselor had continued.

_"If you're not keen on engaging in human contact, you should find another way to express your thoughts. Keeping things pent up underneath the surface isn't good."_

Dr. Palmer's voice echoed through his mind and he couldn't help the defeated sigh that escaped his lips. What was he supposed to do now? Keep a fucking journal?

"_I know you've already made your position clear on this, but I'd like to ask you nevertheless. I get that you're fine on your own, but aren't there times when you just wish to share some of your thoughts with somebody?"_

Paul snorted derisively upon remembering that particular question. _Blasphemy._

_"Aren't there times, when you feel like you're missing out on something that can actually turn out to be great?"_

Paul had sighed exasperatedly. _"No, there aren't. Look, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but for me this is a total waste of time. I don't think there is any way for you to change my lifestyle and, frankly, I don't want you to."_

"_Alright then, allow me to change the subject. Tell me, Paul. What are your hobbies?"_

The teenager huffed as he recalled the stupid question. "_I have none," _had been his straight-forward answer and it was true. He was a hobby-less person, who only did things he found necessary and didn't get out of his way to do something he enjoyed.

"_Then your first job will be to find one and transform it into a way of communication."_

_"How does one find a hobby, exactly?" _He had responded sassily, which had earned him a smile from the counselor.

"_Why don't you tell me what you're good at instead. Preferably, something artistic."_

_Preferably, something artistic. What the actual hell?_ He had thought scornfully. _Does it seem to him like I am an artistic person? Reggie is _so_ getting murdered tonight._

"_Come on now." _The doctor had taunted with amusement. _"You're actually telling me there's nothing in particular you're good at? Something you'd enjoy doing?"_

An image of a younger version of himself had appeared before his eyes. Back when he had been little, there had been such a thing. A thing that he did well, a thing that had brought him joy. Something he had been proud of and had wanted his parents and older brother to be proud of as well. And indeed, they had been. They had all been happy.

Paul had shaken his head slightly, chasing all thoughts of the distant past away. It had been a long time ago, back when he was a member of a complete and loving family. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on that. He didn't want to end up like his mother.

"_No. Like I told you, I've got no hobbies."_

Dr. Palmer's eyes had held a particularly mischievous glint when he had said, "_Ah, but your brother told me that once upon a time you used to be quite the writer."_

Paul had to admit he'd been surprised at those words. But surprised that Reggie had yet again shot him in the foot? Not so much. He wouldn't put it past him to reveal details about his past to random strangers and his brother had once again proved him right.

"_That was a long time ago." _He had replied through gritted teeth.

_"Well, why don't we try to renew that old passion of yours?"_

"_Sorry, sir. I'm not much of a storyteller." _Paul remembered he had added a special tint of resentment in those words, but that still hadn't caused Dr. Palmer to give up.

_"Doesn't have to be fairy tales. Just write from your heart, from past experiences, from your views on the world, from anything you know or wish to be true."_

Paul had looked utterly confused at that and the counselor had helpfully assisted him by only adding mysteriously, _"I'm sure you'll find some inspiration, Paul."_

And that brought him to the predicament he was stuck in right now. Sitting in front of his laptop in his dark room, trying to think of things to write.

Inspiration. How did one find inspiration exactly?

Paul sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts run freely. They brought him to his early childhood, a time that had definitely been the happiest for him, but which brought pain and nostalgia with its sweet and unreachable memories.

The later years of his life had been filled with much more bitterness, the result of his shattered family had taken its toll on him and molded him into the person he was today. Distant. Introverted. Cold.

He had witnessed his mother disappear in her own self and had tried to get any sign out of her, a sign that she was still alive and functioning. After a while, he had given up and let her recover from her state on her own. He had learned that mental trauma could be overcome only by the one, who was traumatized, regardless of the support and love other people showered him with. The person would only get better if he made the choice to change for the better and free himself from the dark pits in his mind.

And suddenly, he knew what to write about. He opened his eyes and adjusted himself in front of the machine which was about to become a creative tool in his hands.

And he started. From the very beginning.

* * *

Dawn didn't bother to announce her arrival in the house. It was empty, anyways, although she wouldn't have done so even if her mother had been home.

She imagined a younger version of herself running up the porch and entering with a triumphant "I'm home!", but something didn't sit right with that illusion. Maybe if a few things, which she had no power to change, had gone differently in her family, maybe then such a scenario would be possible.

But it wasn't. So she disregarded it, scolding herself for overthinking so much. Life would be so much easier for her if she didn't insist on torturing herself with such thoughts on a daily basis.

She sighed as she entered her room and dropped her backpack on the bare floor. Today didn't seem like it would be one of the 'bad' days in the Berlitz household, so she decided to stay there for the night. Something she hadn't done for the past few days, but doubted that her mother had even noticed.

Dawn sat by her desk and took her laptop out of her bag. Her fingers mechanically typed the website in the bar and pressed Enter. Before she knew what she was doing, the page loaded on the screen and she sighed, realizing she had gone there out of habit again.

It used to be her favorite place in the world, that site. It was a small virtual world, where people from all around the globe posted stories of various genres, discussed topics in forums and befriended each other on the base of common interests.

She was there only for the stories, though. Had been, anyways. She hadn't read anything from that site in a long time, not since the stories on there had become too unrealistic for her to enjoy them. Sure, she had loved fairy tales while growing up; they had given her hope and filled her with dreams of a brighter and fairy tale-like future and she had loved and cherished them, until she had grown up and realized that the future wasn't going to get any pinker for her at all.

The circumstances had caused her to become cynical and thus, the stories had begun seeming too far-fetched, too distant from reality, too good to ever become true. And she had simply stopped enjoying them, stopped reading them, stopped investing all her hopes in them.

Every now and then though, she couldn't stop herself from logging on and browsing aimlessly around. It had almost become like a drill over the years.

She typed in her e-mail and password and logged in to find her alert list filled with newly updated stories, which she had added a long time ago. She didn't bother checking them and instead went for browsing the recently posted ones, not really hoping to find something worth reading.

Dawn propped her chin on her palm for support as she scrolled down with her other hand. True to her expectations, nothing managed to catch her eye. She sighed with boredom, but given that she had nothing else to do, she decided to look through another page before giving up on her story hunt for the day.

As the second page of the newly listed stories loaded, Dawn did a quick scan and concluded that there was nothing worth her attention. And she barely missed it.

Crammed between two stories, whose summaries pompously promised a soap-opera type of drama inside, she narrowly spotted a story, which had no image for a cover, but provided a short 'resume' that caught her attention.

"_Real life shit, simply don't read. We all struggle to find our way to survive in this hellhole called Earth and this story can only help the average reader in one way, namely the correct grammar and spelling used in it. Don't even bother looking at it and keep scrolling; nothing fun and light for you to find here, only reality and its ugly side." _Dawn read aloud and raised an eyebrow. Wow, the writer of that story had to be a huge jackass.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from clicking on it, her interest having been peeked by the strange summary. It seemed as though the author didn't even want people to read it, which kind of contradicted the fact that he had uploaded it on a popular Internet platform.

_Hm, let's see. _Dawn began reading the first chapter of the story inside and with every minute that passed, her eyes widened more and more. By the time she read it, she was left absolutely speechless by the skill with which it had been written, but by the story it told as well.

That was the kind of story she had been looking for all along. It really reflected reality and showed its cruelty, making shivers go down Dawn's spine. _That_ was the spark she had been searching for. That was a story, for which she'd regularly check her alert list.

Still paralyzed by the genius of the text she had just read, the bluenette moved her eyes towards the author's username. "_Escaping my thoughts_," she read in a whisper and shakily reached for the mouse, suddenly feeling compelled to click on it. She did so, but the profile that appeared on the screen didn't have any description in it and she couldn't help but feel disappointed, although not completely surprised.

The bluenette saw that the account had been made just earlier that week and felt the urge to send the user a PM to praise him for his work. Whoever he or she was, it didn't seem like he/she wanted to make friends on this site. That much was clear from the summary of his story and the lack of description on his profile, but Dawn decided to be a little rebellious and send him a message nevertheless.

With a childish giggle, she clicked on the PM icon and composed her message carefully, hesitating for a second before pressing 'send'.

Dawn wondered if _escaping my thoughts_was even going to answer, but decided not to pay the matter so much thought. With a sigh, she shut down her laptop and returned it in her backpack, not wanting to forget it there on the following morning when she had to go to school. She didn't know if she'd have to spend a few more nights away from her house, after all. She had to always be ready.

With that thought in mind, the blue-haired girl went to her dresser and got out some fresh clothes, making a mental note to herself to do some laundry whenever she had the chance. She folded them with care and put them in her backpack as well, taking out a sandwich she had bought on her way 'home' and unwrapping it.

Her phone buzzed and she smiled as she saw a text from her cousin Marina.

'_how's it going, Blue? feel free to spend a few nights here'_

Dawn frowned and set her sandwich aside, wiping her hands on a napkin to type an answer. '_I'm not a charity case, you don't have to invite me over out of pity'_

_'i know, but the kids and i miss u a lot ;( plz come'_

The bluenette smiled. '_Ok then, if you insist. I'll call you tomorrow.'_

_'oki! good night, Blue! :)'_

Dawn put her phone back on the desk with a chuckle. It was still weird for her why her cousin insisted on calling her Blue, when she herself had blue hair as well, albeit a much lighter color. Over the years the nickname had just stuck and Dawn wasn't that bothered by it; quite the opposite, it made her feel like she had a strong bond with Marina, something she didn't have with anyone else from her family, no matter how much she wished for it to not be that way.

After finishing the remains of her sandwich she tossed the wrap in the empty trashcan. Checking that everything was done for her classes the following day, she decided to go to bed and try to get some rest. She didn't bother to change, but brushed her teeth and put her hair in a messy bun, preventing it from bothering her throughout the night.

She tucked herself in the cold bed and snuggled into the plain gray covers, hoping to get a night of good, dreamless sleep. She hadn't been able to sleep properly lately, but wished for a change. She wished for a lot of things to change.

Just wishing wasn't going to do anything for her though, but in the meantime she did her best to keep up with life as it was.

So she closed her eyes and forced herself to fall asleep, finding herself in a gray world of monotony where nothing ever happened, where everything stood still, but where, despite of the subdued colors and the suffocating desperation, still shone a tiny beam of hope too.

**_So, the idea for this story has been swimming around my mind for a while and I decided to finally get it out. This is really more of a prologue, I hope I'll be able to post the next chapter real soon, since it's basically already written. This story is going to include some heavy stuff, somewhat sucky backstories and sort of obscene language._**


	2. Encounters and Edgy Correspondence

_**Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited and/or followed! You make my day! I hope you enjoy the second chapter, so here goes!  
Note: In this fic, Marina is in her late twenties, with an age difference of at least ten years from Dawn; Kenny is nothing like what he's portrayed in the anime and don't kill me because of it - it's an AU and it's all on purpose, so I hope you don't get too mad about it.**_

_**I don't own Pokémon.**_

_**Chapter 2 - Of Encounters and Edgy Correspondence**_

Paul stared at the screen with brows furrowed in irritation.

This was what happened when he listened to Reggie's goddamn ideas. People decided they could fucking _contact_ him.

As if it hadn't been enough he had actually listened to Dr. Palmer and started writing his story. It hadn't been enough for Reggie, of course. He wouldn't leave him alone until he finally caved in and yelled angrily that he'd post the damn story online.

Which had, apparently, been a fatal mistake.

Paul scowled as he continued staring wordlessly at the result of his stupidity. He had received a message from a user called _silence is my jam but i like rock too_, who had obviously read and liked his story.

_Hey there! Sorry for bothering you, but I just wanted to say that I really liked your story! I hope I'm not being too bothersome by asking where you've found inspiration to write such a realistic and wonderful piece, but I can't help it! It's too accurate to not have been ignited by real life events, but that's none of my business. Anyways, I just wanted to say that I find your story simply amazing, for both the undeniable skill with which it was written and the emotion, which seems so real and close to the reader! Keep up the great work. :)__  
__  
_Paul read the message, then read it again and again and once more just to make sure it was real. Who was this crazy person who had dared to PM him? Whoever he/she was, they obviously didn't know how he was and didn't know better.

Well, he'd show them and make sure they never bothered him with stupid praise again.

_escaping my thoughts  
__I don't need your praise and you're right that it's none of your business. I don't care if you like the story, don't bother me with nonsense again. I don't need anyone's opinion and posting my work on this stupid site was a bad idea in the first place._

_With hopes to never receive another message from your annoying persona,_

_A person who'd like to be left alone_

He pressed the 'send' button rather angrily and sighed once it was done – at least he'd made sure he wouldn't be bothered by that particular user again.

To his astonishment a few minutes later a reply arrived in his inbox. His eyebrows shot up in shock as he read the message, which held an entirely different tone from the first one he had received from that same user.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Hey jerkface! Listen up, because I'm really not in the mood to deal with your rotten attitude. I have enough people giving me shit in real life without your crappy self and if you think I'd just stand here and take your disrespect, you're dead wrong. Are you socially retarded not to know how to receive compliments and recognition for your work? And if posting this story online was such a bad idea, then how come you did it, huh?_

_If you really thought I'd let such a spiteful reply get by me without a response, the only thing I can tell you is to DREAM the fuck ON._

_Hoping you'd remove that stick from up your ass,_

_A pissed off user, who just wanted to show appreciation and got shit in return_

Paul was rendered speechless by the rant he'd received, but snapped out of it in a second and typed up a furious reply.

_escaping my thoughts  
__You're really annoying, you know that? And if no one has ever told you so, it must mean you have no friends and therefore have no right to call anyone 'socially retarded' except your own damn self. What exactly did you not understand in 'don't bother me again with your nonsense'? Sorry for being so cryptic, let me rephrase – leave me the fuck alone. Got it, you little annoyance?_

_And not that it's any of your business, but this story getting posted was courtesy of my idiotic brother, who so far has only been surpassed in his stupidity by you, you moron._

_Don't get too interested in my ass (which is completely stick-free, I can assure you) and don't. Message. Me. Again._

_Idiot._

That had to do it. Paul smirked smugly as he shut off his laptop, not expecting to receive another message from _silence is my jam but i like rock too_ again after that.

He got all his stuff ready for school and went to check up on his mother before going out. She claimed she was doing better, but she still stayed holed up in her room, looking at old photos and neglecting to eat.

Paul forced her to eat a bowl of reheated soup and left the house after making sure she had taken her pills and changed in clean clothes.

He looked up to the sky and frowned at the dark clouds above. His school wasn't that far away, but he opted for driving his old Jeep there instead of walking.

He arrived in the parking lot and after making sure the car was locked, he headed towards the building. He started climbing up the stairs towards the main entrance and passed by numerous groups of chattering people on his way. When he reached the top, his attention was caught by two people arguing loudly a few steps below.

"Fuck off, Kenny!" A girl with a black hoodie guarding her head yelled at a brown-haired dude with maliciously-glinting eyes and Paul turned around briefly to see him pulling at her sleeve with a sickening smirk.

"What's wrong, Schizo? Late for a Satanist meeting?" Paul recognized the bully – he was a popular and obnoxious jock, who thought he could get away with everything he did and took a pleasure in molesting people he considered inferior to himself.

The purple-haired boy narrowed his eyes at him. He had been on the receiving end of his taunting on a number of occasions, but the brat had stopped bothering him when he hadn't received the response he was hoping for. Paul had just ignored him and passed him by whenever he had tried to bait him into a fight; something, which would be a really smart thing for the girl to do in the moment, but, apparently, she insisted on sticking to her approach.

"Get your filthy hands. Off. Me." The girl gritted out and Paul couldn't help but roll his eyes; she was giving Kenny exactly what he was looking for.

And indeed, the brunet's eyes lit up with cruelty and his lips formed a sadistic smile. He was about to shoot out another insult, when his eyes found Paul staring at the two of them, and his smile widened. "Oh, does the Emo gravedigger have something to say?"

The girl used the moment to pull her arm away from his grasp and whipped around furiously, about to walk away. Kenny quickly grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt and yanked on it, causing her to cry out. Long blue tresses poured down her shoulders as she twisted and turned like a wild animal, trying to free herself from the boy's firm grip.

"Let. Me. Go!"

"Why, is your Daddy going to come here and beat me up? No, because he couldn't care less about-"

"Enough." This was getting ridiculous and Paul decided to interfere and break the fight once and for all. "Let her go."

The brunet looked at him with surprise and grinned crookedly. "Oh, look, it's the loser in shining armor!"

The girl pulled away with force and finally managed to break free from Kenny's firm grip. She picked up her bag from the floor and ran up the stairs wordlessly, making eye contact with Paul for a mere second before she passed him by and disappeared through the massive doors of the building.

The purple-haired boy sent Kenny a glare and turned around, going inside as well. His class was about to start and he wouldn't risk being late because of this dickhead.

Paul reached the classroom where his lesson was going to be held and went inside, scanning it for untaken seats. There was a whole unoccupied row in the back and he stalked over to a desk, putting his backpack on it and sitting silently.

A few people sent him weird looks, but he ignored them and pulled out his books. The blue-haired girl from before flew inside the classroom and heaved a sigh, apparently relieved that she hadn't arrived late.

Paul studied her with narrowed eyes, not having had the opportunity of taking a good look at her at their previous encounter. She was wearing black skinny jeans and the same black hoodie from before, her skin was pale and her hair was ruffled from the running she had apparently done across the halls of the school. He briefly wondered why she had taken longer in reaching the classroom than him, given that she had gone inside the building first. Curiosity wasn't something he expressed on often occasions, so he just disregarded the thought and fixed his stare on her once again.

Her bright blue eyes met his dark ones before she looked away and walked to the back of the class, setting her stuff on the desk on his right.

The teacher walked in and announced they were doing individual exercises for the whole classes. The navy-haired girl got her exercise book out, but instead of starting on the assigned work, she put her headphones in her ears and opened a book of her own.

Paul raised his eyebrows at her, but she didn't turn towards him and just carried on reading. He turned towards the window on his other side and narrowed his eyes at the rain that had begun pouring from the gray sky. After briefly musing that it'd been a good thing he'd taken the Jeep, he redirected his attention to the exercises he had to do.

"Dawn?" Mr. Farrell spoke up after a few minutes. Paul didn't look up and continued working on the exercises, but when nobody answered, he lifted his head and glanced around the classroom.

He followed the teacher's line of gaze and rolled his eyes when it led him to the blue-haired girl a few feet from him. He extended his right leg and kicked her chair soundlessly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, remarkably reminding him of a deer caught in the headlights, and he just motioned to the teacher in response. She took out her earplugs and spoke up, "Yes, sir?"

"Stop by my desk at the end of the class, alright?"

Some of the students turned around to look at her or sent her mocking glances, but all she did was answer with an "okay" and turn back to her book.

Paul wondered if Mr. Farrell was going to scold her for not doing her work, but disregarded it; he wouldn't wait till the end of the class to tell her to do her assigned exercises if he had noticed she wasn't doing them at the moment. He just shook his head and turned his attention back to the task at hand. It wasn't any of his business, plus he had already involved himself in her affairs more than he'd like for the day.

The class rolled around without other interruptions and when the bell rang, Paul had finished with seven pages worth of exercises. He collected his things and hurried to get to the front of the class so that he'd be able to quickly make his exit, but the other students had beat him to it and he was stuck waiting for them to slowly go out in the busy hallway.

The boy noticed Mr. Farrell asking the cobalt-haired girl something in a hushed voice and her shaking her head. The teacher spoke again and Paul faintly heard the words, "do you plan on staying there forever? You can't, your family-"

"I didn't intend for you to find out, can't you just pretend you didn't? It's not that big a deal."

Paul felt guilty for overhearing and tried to block their voices out, wishing that his moronic classmates would move faster and grant him the ability to get away from the conversation taking place behind him.

"Look, Dawn, if another teacher finds out it may be taken to the board and the consequences for both you and your parents will be severe."

"I… I'll be more careful, okay? Just don't… don't tell anybody."

Paul glanced at the two out of the corner of his eyes to see the teacher nod with concern visible in his eyes and Dawn mutter a "thank you, sir" in return.

He looked back in front of him and made his way through the door, where the crowd of students had dissipated a little, restraining himself from thinking over what the bizarre exchange might have meant.

* * *

Dawn took a deep breath and stepped out of the school's main building, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt on as she did so. The weather was being more awful than ever, but she really couldn't care less if she was going to get a little wet.

_Still, _she mused as she felt water seep through her black converses, _It wouldn't have hurt to think __where to go to beforehand._

She trudged on the side of the road aimlessly, not really having a direction. She enjoyed the soft plop she heard every time she stepped in a puddle and tried to ignore the fact that the strong wind was causing her to tremble.

After a few more minutes of aimless wandering, Dawn reached a deserted bus stop and decided to take a break. She sat down on the bench and took off her hood, running a hand through her slightly damp hair. The rain had intensified and she was grateful for the primitive shelter the bus stop provided.

The girl shivered and wrapped her hands around herself, briefly questioning the sense of her actions. She should have just stayed in school till the storm cooled off before going off on an aimless adventure, or gone to her hideout, or maybe even gone home. With every minute, the chance of her coming down with a cold became more and more likely.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, making a silent vow to think things through before stranding herself in the middle of nowhere with no idea whatsoever where to go, and more importantly, how to get there alive. The storm, which had started out like a small drizzle of autumn rain, had quickly evolved into a terrifying thunderous hell, and as Dawn hugged herself even more closely, she marveled at her incredulous stupidity.

_Oh well…_ She was going to try harder next time. That was, if she managed to survive this, she thought to herself melodramatically.

Calling either of her parents was out of the question and she didn't really have any friends she could rely on either. The only thing she could invest her hopes in was her own self, but seeing that she had gotten herself stuck in this predicament all on her own, she didn't get too excited about the situation.

Worst case scenario, she'd be stuck there all night if the storm didn't cool down and on the following morning she'd be forced to visit a hospital because of the hypothermia she was bound to get.

Dawn heaved another sigh and crossed her legs in front of her, eyes still closed. _Getting myself drowned in this hell, oh joy…_

A sudden honk brought her out of her helpless stupor and she nearly fell from the cold bench in her start. She opened her eyes and narrowed them at the road on front of her, struggling to see through the heavy rain. Two round lights, which were shining through the grayish darkness, helped her come to the conclusion that a car had pulled over a few meters from the bus stop.

It honked again and Dawn looked around, suddenly becoming very uneasy. There wasn't another person in sight, so they had to be honking at her, which made her freak out of her skin. If some psychopath thought that she'd get into his car just like that, they were dead wrong, although there wasn't much she could do to defend herself, especially in her current surroundings.

She heard a door open and close and saw a figure run over to where she was sitting under the feeble roof of the bus stop. Her eyes widened in horror and she felt the urge to scream, although she knew it wouldn't do anything to help her.

"Are you fucking _crazy_?"

She gaped at the boy in front of her, barely recognizing him from that morning. He was in some of her classes, but she had never spoken to him before. She continued staring at him wordlessly, causing him to send her a deadly glare.

"What are you waiting for? Get in the car."

She was unable to wipe the look of astonishment off her face and only managed to blurt out an "I'm sorry, what?"

His dark eyes narrowed at her as he flicked his damp hair away from his face. "Are you stupid? You're going to freeze up here."

"So I should get in a car with you? I don't even _know_ you." Dawn pointed out, breaking out of her trance, and tried to hide her trembling hands in her pockets.

The stranger rolled his eyes impatiently. "Let's save the introductions for later, alright? Maybe, I don't know, _when you're not on the verge of getting pneumonia?_"

The girl sighed and admitted to herself that she was really being too stubborn for her own good. This guy didn't seem to have any bad intentions and had just decided to help her out when he'd seen her stranded on the road. Something he was clearly regretting at the moment, if the irritated look on his face was any indication.

She hugged her backpack firmly and muttered a timid "fine", before standing up and hurriedly following her savior back to his Jeep, hoping to herself that there wouldn't be a reason for her to regret her decision later.

"Thanks." She spoke up as he slammed the door to the driver's seat after himself.

He nodded as he turned up the heat and rubbed his palms together.

Dawn was unsure what to say, but finally settled on simply introducing myself. "I'm Dawn. What's your name?"

"Paul." There was a short pause, before he added with a dry laugh, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but…"

The blue-haired girl laughed as well and ran a hand through her wet navy hair. "Yeah. Well, thank you anyways." She bit her lip. "For this morning as well."

Paul turned towards her with a quizzical look. "For kicking your chair?"

She smiled and shook her head. "For telling Kenny off."

Paul scrunched his eyebrows. "Kengo sure can be an obnoxious ass. You got out of the situation all by yourself though."

"Regardless," Dawn shrugged as she shifted to get more comfortable in the passenger seat. "There aren't many people who would've stood up for me in that situation."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "If you insist on calling that 'standing up for you'." He turned back ahead and turned on the ignition. "Where to?"

Dawn blinked rapidly at the question. "I… uh, I'm not… sure."

Paul frowned at her. "Are you homeless or something?"

The girl shot him a glare. "For your information, no, I'm not." She looked at the road ahead as the Jeep pulled out and started moving forwards on the slippery surface. "I guess… I'll be going to my cousin's."

After a minute of silence, Paul cleared his throat sheepishly. "Care to give me an address?"

"Oh! Sorry! Liberty street number 43."

He nodded and she leaned her head on the window with a sigh.

They arrived in the driveway of Marina's house a few minutes later and Dawn turned towards him with a small smile of gratitude before stepping out of the car. "Sorry for being a bother. I appreciate it, but don't go out of your way to help me next time you see me in trouble."

He just stared at her blankly, causing her to grin with amusement. There hadn't been any snarkiness to her tone and he concluded that she was honestly warning him not to get involved with her problems for his own good. Well, that was an advice he could gladly follow, he thought as he noticed the currently wet state of the inside of his Jeep.

The girl got out of the car and hurriedly ran up to the door of her cousin's, where she was shielded from the intense rain. She looked back and gave him a little wave, before letting herself in the house like it was her own home.

Paul watched her get inside with furrowed brows, before shaking his head slightly and pulling out of the driveway.

* * *

"So, how's the life of a writer going, little bro?" Reggie poked his head from the kitchen with a smug smirk as Paul closed the front door behind him with a soft 'thud'. The younger sibling gave him an annoyed look as he shook his wet jacket off. "Fame catching up with you already?"

Paul scowled as he passed by his obnoxious brother and went to take something to eat from the fridge. "Some stupid person's actually decided to message me. It's all your fault."

Reggie grinned as he offered his brother a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. "That, I admit. But hey, I knew you'd gain some fans! You're a writing genius, little bro!"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Reggie." He took the bowl and went up the stairs to his room. He wouldn't be able to spend the whole evening with his smug brother while he was determined to tease and molest him. He'd much rather argue with that stubborn online fan of his, who had gone from praising his work to calling him a number of names and profanities. He was surrounded by mental people from all angles.

As if on cue, his phone beeped indicating that he'd received a new notification email from the site. Paul rolled his eyes as he saw a message from that same person. _Speak of the devil. _Got their hands on some Wi-Fi and decided they should bother him just for the sake of it, he thought resentfully.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Excuse you, but I'll call anyone I deem fit 'socially retarded' and you seem to fill the bill pretty nicely. My social communications are none of your concern, you rude little prick, so don't make stupid assumptions. And since you're so determined on calling me an annoyance, then I might as well work to earn that title and message you as much as I fucking please._

_Send your brother my condolences and tell him I'm really sorry that he has such a jackass for a sibling. It must be tough dealing with you on a daily basis, tell him to hang in there._

_Me? Interested in your ass? You wish._

_I'll message you if I goddamn feel like it, so get over it, sunshine._

_P.S. I'm not an idiot, but feel free to call insulting names at the mirror on my behalf._

Paul glared at his phone, wishing it had the ability to carry out the consequences of his anger to the person who'd sent him the message. He turned on his laptop while waiting for his soup to cool down a little and typed a reply.

_escaping my thoughts  
__If you don't want me making stupid assumptions about your life then don't make such guesses about mine either. Seeing that you won't take a hint and just give up, I'll just stop replying to you after this. Maybe ignoring you is the right way to go here, you little annoyance._

_My brother is already aware of what a pain in the neck I can be, so don't feel too sorry for him. Especially since he gets on my nerves a lot more than I do on his, mind you. God help me if you knew me in real life, you'd be a hell of a lot to handle; I think I might just kill myself at the thought._

_I'm dropping the ass subject, your stupidity simply doesn't deserve to be addressed._

_Don't call me sunshine._

_P.S. You ARE an idiot. Scan through the messages you've sent me so far and you're sure to find plenty of proof for that._

Paul clicked 'send' with a sigh, not really up for arguing with someone he didn't even know, via a site he was forced onto against his will. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his thoughts taking him to the girl he'd just given a ride to. She was definitely a weirdo, he'd give her that – getting herself in trouble, standing in the middle of nowhere during a storm and all that. He couldn't quite decide if she had a thrilling addiction to danger or if she was just plain stupid, but either way her affairs weren't something he'd voluntarily get himself involved in.

It would be best for him if he took her advice and stayed away from what wasn't his concern. He knew what was good for him and it was clear as day that she wasn't it.

Nope, it wouldn't do for him to go out of his way to help strangers stranded on the side of the road again. Definitely not.

With that resolve in mind, he got back to his soup and opened a blank Word document, getting started on the second chapter of his apparently well-liked story.

He rolled his eyes as he thought of the annoying user he was having a rather sharp-tongued correspondence with.

Some people were just too much to deal with.

* * *

Dawn shoved a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and hummed happily. Her cousin gave her a weird look and laughed as she reached for the remote and turned the TV on the kids' channel.

"Mama, mama! We want ice cream too!"

Two little boys at the age of 3 and 4 ran up to Marina and started pulling at her sleeve with cute pouts on their adorably squishy faces. The woman crossed her arms firmly and gave them a mock-cross look. "Aren't you two supposed to be in bed? It's late!"

The two kids started whining loudly, on the verge of fake tears and Marina told them to go bother their father. They ran out of the room with hopeful grins on their faces and Dawn heard them begging their dad for ice cream from the kitchen.

"They're adorable." She remarked as she scooped up more of the tasty dessert.

Her cousin huffed. "Spend a full day with them and then talk about it." She rubbed her temple and leaned back on the couch. "I haven't slept properly in a week because of their whimsies. You see how they are. They get too hyper and won't go to sleep until we give them whatever they want. Jimmy and I haven't gone out for months."

Dawn frowned at that. "Don't Mickey and Alex go to kindergarten?"

"They do, but sometimes they don't want to go and I have to take care of them all day long when Jimmy has to work. And on his free days there's always work for him to do around the new apartment. Since I can't stand being around his parents, he is forced to do the work all on his own, so I really can't ask anything more of him." Marina looked down at her lap with sadness. "I feel really bad for not doing anything, you know… not having a job and all… Plus putting him through my moody attitude... Everything falls on him and even though he doesn't show it, I know he feels under pressure."

Dawn looked at her cousin with empathy and blurted out the next words without so much as a thought. "Why don't you two take the night off?"

"Huh?" Marina looked up with furrowed brows.

Dawn hummed in contemplation and spoke up after a second, "Why don't you go out and have dinner right now? I can look after the kids."

"I- Dawn, no, they're… they're a real handful, especially with someone they're not all that used to. They'll think they can boss you around and get everything their way and molest you-"

"Marina. Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can handle them. Plus the storm died down and the weather is perfect for a romantic late night walk." Dawn smiled at her cousin. "You and Jimmy go out and have well-deserved fun."

Marina hesitated. "You sure?"

The teenage girl nodded and ushered her out of the room. In a matter of minutes she and Jimmy had gone out of the house and left her alone with the two bandits.

The boys flew in the living room and looked up at Dawn with identical evil grins. She cleared her throat and raised a finger warningly. "Now, don't you two think I'm going to be your ragdoll. I'm in charge now and you're going to do what I say. Is that clear?"

She towered over them threateningly and they shared a scared look before a huge grin overcame her face and she giggled at them. "Now, want to play a round of Hide and Seek before bed?"

Mickey and Alex gave out happy yells and scrammed out to the hallway hurriedly, in search of good hiding spots. Dawn laughed at their eagerness and plopped back on the sofa, folding her legs beneath her and taking another spoonful of ice cream.

She wondered if she'd ever be as lucky as Marina in finding such a wonderful and caring person such as Jimmy to love her despite of her flaws and to be her faithful companion in life. She highly doubted that anyone would take an interest in her own self and even if they did, they wouldn't bother trying to understand the complexity of her character; she certainly wasn't one to make things easy for the hypothetical person that wanted to get to know her either – after having seen firsthand what a long-lasting love could turn into, in the face of her parents, she wasn't sure she wanted anything to do with such feelings.

Well, she had once trusted Kenny, who hadn't always treated her this way. He had been her friend, someone she could confide to, not someone who insisted on making her life a burning hell, like he did nowadays. She vividly remembered the day, many years back, when she had ran over to his house just on the other side of the road to escape the chaos that had been happening in hers; he had welcomed her warmly, just like any previous time she had needed him to, comforted her and told her it was going to be alright.

He had pretty much been the protective brother she never had, but then things had changed. On his side, anyways – things never really changed for her and to that day, she couldn't understand what had caused their fallout.

She wasn't sure what had happened, but sure enough they had drifted apart, not talked for a while and in their high-school years he had started bullying her, along with other people he had marked as weaklings who deserved to get a piece of his distorted mind. It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't know so many personal things about her, if he didn't know _just_ where to hit her with his words for it to hurt. If he hadn't been someone she'd have never thought capable of such cruelty.

Kind, understanding Kenny, who, in their earlier years, had soothed her with his words, instead of using them as a weapon against her, and had never hesitated to help her any way he could.

Yeah, well, things weren't this way anymore, Dawn thought with bitterness. He had changed for reasons, which remained unknown to her, and was now a completely different person. While she had made her peace with the fact that Kenny and her were never going to be the friends they once were, his never-to-be-forgotten betrayal and sudden shift of behavior towards her continued to sting like a fresh wound.

The girl snapped out of her reverie, astounded by her mind's unique ability to whip out an unpleasant thought or memory at every situation it was presented to. She shook her head, trying to prevent her thoughts from bringing back any more pain and sourness.

Be it reading, listening to music or doodling aimlessly on her arm with a marker, distractions were all she lived for. It was solely because of them that she'd been able to save a little chunk of her sanity over the years.

Not having quite reached the point in her mental state where she could trust her thoughts not to drive her crazy, she decided to go for a distraction again. So, she stood up and started looking around for the two giddy kids, who, with a bit of luck, wouldn't have to find themselves in such hopeless situations as their troubled, troubled aunt.

**_So... yeah. I hope I lived up to your expectations, and if not... well, I tried my best. :p Have a good day!_**


	3. A Sense of Deja Vu

_**You guys have been so supportive, I just can't thank you enough! I hope you enjoy!  
I don't own Pokémon.**_

**_Chapter 3 – A Sense of Deja Vu_**

Dawn mumbled something incoherent and turned over in her sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head slightly. Her fidgeting caused the blanket around her to slide off and drop to the floor.

The girl abruptly opened her eyes and sat up at the speed of light, taking a sharp breath. She frantically looked around, her distress causing her heart to speed up. As her breathing gradually returned to normal, she took in her surroundings, her confusion clearing out upon realizing just where she was.

She lied back down on the old rugged sofa with a sigh and covered her face with her palms. It hadn't been one of her favorite nights, that was for sure. All had been going peacefully and uneventfully at the Berlitz household, until her father had showed up at the door, clearly inebriated on a certain level, shouting out at her mother to come down. He was demanding that she signed some 'formal' papers, which in reality were scribbles on a napkin he had written in his drunken daze and which, according to his inarticulate threatening, would set off the process of him taking full custody over Dawn.

It had been a while since her dad had last made such a display. Dawn wondered if his wife was out of town on some sort of trip again, granting him the freedom to indulge in his drinking problem. Whatever his reason for showing up at her house had been that night, she was just glad that she had managed to slip past him without getting his attention. She already knew how the whole thing was going to play out – her mother wouldn't even come down from her room to take part in the charade and after a bit of shouting and throwing curses at the stairway, her father would pass out on the floor of the living room.

The girl sighed again and rolled over so that she was facing the lava lamp on an old tripod, which was cluttered with an outstanding amount of junk for its little size. She reached out for her phone, which was balancing on the top of an unstable tower of things that had fascinatingly still not collapsed and pressed a button. Her eyes instinctively narrowed at the screen in a protest against the bright light which it projected onto her face. She groaned as she saw that it wasn't even midnight yet. Her head hurt like hell and she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so it looked like it was going to be a long and excruciating night.

She sat up and flexed her neck, satisfied with the cracks the movement caused. Her eyes had accustomed to the darkness of the room and she could make out some of its familiar features. A few feet away from the sofa she had been lying on, stood a tall bookcase whose shelves were packed to the absolute maximum with dusty encyclopedias and textbooks. Next to the sofa there was an old writing desk supporting two computers, which looked like they had been taken out of a prototype museum, and a writing machine, which was completely covered in dust, but other than that seemed to be in a great condition.

Dawn wondered what she could entertain herself with, her eyes ultimately stopping on a pile of old library books on another table. She stood up from the bumpy plush sofa and made her way towards it, briefly musing that the school should really do a spring cleaning as she maneuvered around the random stacks of junk scattered across the carpeted floor. She grabbed the book on top of the pile, not willing to risk it demolishing and adding to the mess she was surrounded with.

_The light of my phone screen will have to do, _she contemplated as she returned to her nest on the sofa. Just as she got comfortable and ready to lose herself in the magic of _Pride and Prejudice, _she heard distant voices coming from the halls outside. She felt a rush of panic as she realized they were getting closer and looked around frantically, wondering what to do.

Dawn froze as the door creaked open and mentally swore as she saw some fluorescent light pour inside. She stared blankly at the large bookcase in front of her, which was separating her from the other half of the room, where someone was currently walking around and fumbling through all the junk.

_Damn it, what's somebody doing at school this late? _Dawn was too close to getting busted and she knew what chaos would be unleashed if she was to be found there at the middle of the night.

A part of her wishfully hoped that if she stood really still and the person on the other side of the bookcase didn't decide to be an explorer, she might just remain undiscovered and there wouldn't be any prob-

_thump_

Dawn's eyes widened and she saw in slow motion how the book between her hands slid out of her grasp and hit the floor with a soft _thud. _Her mouth opened on its own accord and before she could stop herself, she heard a quiet 'shit' roll off her tongue.

Well, shit indeed.

* * *

Paul trudged his feet across the halls alongside his teacher, wondering how much more time it would be until he would be able to go back home.

"Thanks for helping me out again, Paul. If it wasn't for you, I'd have to be here till the morning. You sure get work done fast."

The boy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and just nodded in response. Even though this wasn't the first time he'd helped out Mr. Farrell with administration work (this time it had been organizing some school files), the teacher still insisted on expressing his gratitude. The two of them had had this deal running for a while now – once a week, Paul stayed after class and contributed to the fulfilling of various bothersome chores teachers apparently had to do, and in return Mr. Farrell frequently e-mailed his brother report cards describing the activities the younger sibling indulged in as a member of a completely made-up club, which supposedly resembled a support group of students in the realms of the school society.

Reggie had been so pleased upon hearing that Paul was taking part in something involving human contact that he hadn't bothered him as much about his need to obtain more social skills.

Granted, the whole conspiracy the student and the teacher shared had its downside, namely the former's hyperactive brother taking a tad _too_ big of an interest towards the fictional school club and thus, creating the need for Mr. Farrell to describe to him its exact purpose and functions on a frequent basis. The tutor had claimed it was a lot of fun for him to do and Paul had just let him enjoy himself, as it clearly brought him some inexplicable middle-age type of entertainment. Crazy people were truly all he was surrounded by.

"Ah, it's gotten really late." Mr. Farrell tsk-d as he took a look at his watch. "Okay, last thing for tonight – there are some papers, which were handed in last year that I need to compare with ones getting submitted for a grade now. More and more students have become keen on the idea to just copy off older works, but those rascals can't outsmart me. I know all of their techniques for breezing off high school and I gotta tell you, none of them could ever work on me!"

Paul raised an eyebrow at his teacher as the two turned around a corner. The man smiled sheepishly under the boy's gaze. "Back to the point, while I get my things from my office, I need you to go to the storage room over there and fetch those papers for me. Look for the tag _Literary works from the Romanticism."_

Paul nodded and went over to the door at the end of the hall, while Mr. Farrell took a left and headed towards his office, his retreating footsteps echoing in the empty building. The boy pressed the handle and went inside, narrowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The whole room was so cluttered with junk, both on the walls and the floor, that he couldn't even find a light switch and had to settle for the glow of the hallway lamps.

At first he thought that there was just a narrow corridor which extended for a few meters, but upon closer inspection he realized that the bookcase, which he had thought to be the wall on his right, was standing between him and the other half of the storeroom. Great, twice as much searching for him to do. Now, where were those papers he had to-

_thump_

Paul's instincts kicked in like a wild predator's and his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, as if looking for prey. On tables and chairs of various sizes stood piled up so many different things that it wouldn't be a wonder if one of them had fallen down on its own. The boy was almost fully convinced that had been the cause of the sound he'd heard, when he heard a quiet 'shit' come out of seemingly nowhere.

With narrowed eyes he stepped further inside the room and rounded the corner around the tall bookcase which was concealing a part of the room away from his view. Slowly, a faintly glimmering lava lamp came into his field of vision and next to it, illuminated by its soft glow, stood the last thing he had expected to see.

His jaw dropped as he recognized the big blue eyes, which were staring back at him in shock. "You've got to be kidding me."

The girl just gaped right back at him, apparently just as flabbergasted. He noticed she was sitting on an old-looking olive-green sofa, her legs wrapped in a blanket, with her sneakers kicked off on the floor and her backpack standing next to a cluttered tripod. It didn't take a mastermind to figure out that she'd been staying there and he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"With a risk of repeating myself, I'm just going to ask. Are you homeless?!"

The girl seemed to regain her focus and looked as though she was about to shoot a biting comeback, when a voice rang from the doorway. "Paul, I'm good to go. Have you found the papers yet?"

Her eyes widened to the size of tennis balls and she quickly mouthed something to him, saying "Farrell?!"

He stared at her speechlessly as she mimicked something to him, looking absolutely furious. He put his hand up, trying to get her to calm down and, regaining his ability to talk, shouted out to the teacher, "I need just another minute, sir."

"Well, I better come and help you. This place is packed like an eccentric old lady's house, it will take you forever."

The girl quickly lied down on the sofa, covering herself up with the blanket and stuffing the lava lamp in between the seat cushions, causing that half of the room to lose some of its light. Paul narrowed his eyes at her actions but his attention was caught by Mr. Farrell, who had suddenly materialized behind him.

"You can't find them, you say? Well, it's no wonder, really! Look at how dark this place is! Say, where was that switch…"

"Is it at all possible that the papers are in your office, sir?" Paul asked, maintaining an even voice and a poker face, as he turned around. Mr. Farrell gave him a weird look, opened and closed his mouth and rubbed his chin in contemplation.

"Well, I guess it's not excluded… I'm pretty sure things from this long ago are more likely to be here though, but…"

The boy didn't hesitate to interrupt. "We might find them a lot faster if I keep searching here and you go through your office just to make sure."

The teacher beamed up at him. "Sharp as always, Paul. It's a good thing I have you as my helper." He turned on his heel and disappeared from the boy's sight, loudly exclaiming "Reggie will be getting an extra praising report this week!" before he went out the door and off to his office.

The girl kicked the blanket off and quickly jumped to her feet. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Paul looked at her unimpressed. "I think your answer to this question would be far more entertaining."

She glared at him and ran a hand through her hair frantically. "The last thing I need right now is Farrell busting me. Can't you get him out of here somehow?"

Paul scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Man needs his papers. There's nothing I can do."

The girl's head perked up. "Which papers? What are they on?"

He scratched the back of his head. "_Literary works from the Romanticism_, I think."

The blue-haired disaster (quite a fitting name, if you asked him) jumped up at the speed of light and threw herself at a cabinet in the corner of the dark room. "Jeez, why didn't you say so sooner? I've read them all!"

All Paul could do was stare. _Just how much time has she spent here?!_

"Renaissance… Victorian Era… Aha, here they are!" She pulled out a binder triumphantly and handed it to Paul with a shit-eating grin. "Go on, give it to him and get the hell out of here!"

He hesitantly took it and with a last glance towards the seemingly homeless girl, he turned to leave, but was stopped by Farrell, who had soundlessly appeared in the room. The teacher's look had become grim and Paul had a feeling he knew why.

Farrell pushed past him offhandedly and stared at the girl. "Dawn, I told you not to come here anymore." His voice had lost all of its cheerfulness and was now stern and sharp. "You know how risky it is, other teachers stay late as well. You know that if someone else finds you…"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Paul suddenly felt extremely uneasy, as if he was intruding on something that wasn't any of his business. Which, in all honesty, it wasn't, but Farrell was blocking his exit and he couldn't do anything to get out of there.

The girl, Dawn, didn't say anything and just stared at her lap silently, biting her lip. The teacher checked his watch, then leaned closer to her and spoke up again with a more muffled voice. "Look, I won't say anything to anyone, but you have to promise to be more careful. You know that if social services get involved, the result might be irreversible and things will get ten times harder for you."

"I… I know all that…" Dawn spoke up finally, playing with a hair tie on her wrist and avoiding Mr. Farrell's gaze.

"I don't think you realize the seriousness of the situation, Dawn." The teacher crouched down in front of her. "If a social worker finds out about this, it is done for your parents. You don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not!" The girl stood up to her feet, anger replacing all timidness in the span of a second. "What was I supposed to do though? Huh? Sometimes I just can't be there! I couldn't be there tonight and there will certainly be times when I won't in the future! So tell me, what was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?"

She stared expectantly at Mr. Farrell with a clenched jaw, as if waiting for him to answer her. Then she just shook her head and quickly put on her sneakers, taking her phone and backpack in her hands and trying to brush past Paul and the teacher.

"Dawn! Wait, where are you going?"

"I'd tell you if I knew," she shot out a biting response as she stepped to the right in an attempt to get past Mr. Farrell.

"It's the middle of the night. You're not going anywhere."

She stared at him with blazing eyes, but didn't say anything. He rubbed his temple and gave her a tired look. "Just sleep here tonight and we'll figure out something tomorrow. Alright?"

She stared at him for the longest second and then nodded, somewhat resignedly and set her backpack back on the floor. Mr. Farrell looked at Paul and said, "I can trust you not to mention any of this, right, Paul? We can't risk getting Miss Berlitz in any more trouble."

The boy nodded silently, his blank stare boring into the girl's head. It wasn't like he'd go off telling anyone about it, it wasn't any of his business and he certainly wasn't one to throw other people's personal problems in the center of the public attention. It wasn't where he'd want his own shit to be.

"Fine then." Mr. Farrell gave a long sigh and turned to leave. "We'll talk tomorrow, Dawn." He took the binder from Paul and exited the storage room, leaving the two teenagers alone.

Dawn looked up quizzically at the boy, who was still staring at her blankly. "Aren't you leaving?"

He broke out of his trance and quickly moved his eyes away from her. "Yes. Good night."

Paul turned away and disappeared behind the old bookcase. His hand was on the handle of the door, when he heard a muffled "Good night," in return.

He just shook his head and went out of the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He had a feeling that this wouldn't be the end of his involvement with the strange girl, but chose to ignore it.

* * *

Mr. Farrell briefly scanned the classroom as he went inside. His eyes stopped on two particular students in the back of the class and he narrowed them for a fraction of second, before focusing his attention on pulling out a sheet of paper from his briefcase.

"Good morning, class," he greeted inattentively, without looking up. He sounded dispirited, apathetic even and it was no wonder – he had barely gotten any sleep, dwelling on Dawn's dilemma. He hadn't been able to come up with anything in regard with her sleeping arrangements, because, after all, he had no real control over her, nor had the power to change whatever was causing her to resort to the storage room of the school. But he had schemed out a course of action, which could result to be helpful for the girl, although there was no saying how it might play out; he'd just have to wait and see if he indeed _was_ a genius in disguise.

"Today I'll be assigning you tasks to do on your own quietly. Everyone, turn to page 394 and start reading the analysis of the book we've been studying and then write down the things you deem inaccurate or out of place. Because, yes, Connor, there are such things. Then make a detailed plan and start constructing your own text on the topic. I'll be collecting your works next Friday."

He ignored the collective groan of the students and added, "You better get started. I'll be expecting some nicely-written essays. Don't look at me like that, Connor."

Mr. Farrell heard the complaints die down little by little and the classroom fill with sounds of flipping pages. He looked up and saw the two in the back start working as well. "Dawn and Paul," he addressed them, effectively catching their attention. They both looked up at him with identical wide eyes and expressions, which said they had an idea of what was to follow and didn't like it. He suppressed the smirk, which was tugging on his lips and kept on a nonchalant face.

"You two come with me. I'm assigning you a different project you'll be working on as a pair."

Even if he might have had some doubts about his plan, the expressions on their faces at those words wiped them all away and assured him it was worth it. He watched as they wordlessly stood up from their seats and approached his desk; while they had composed themselves and put on emotionless faces, behind their eyes he could read a mix of various emotions.

The aura which Dawn emitted all but screamed "I know exactly what you're doing; you couldn't have just left me to deal with this on my own, could you?" He smiled at her, trying to reassure her it was all for her own good, but she purposely avoided his gaze as she stopped in front of him.

Paul, on the other hand, was staring at him with no trace of shame whatsoever, his eyes demanding to know why he was being dragged into this. The teacher scratched the back of his head sheepishly and gave his student an apologetic look; he truly was sorry to involve him in his scheme, but felt it would turn out for the best if there was someone he could trust to look after Dawn. Poor Paul though; Mr. Farrell could clearly see his obvious disdain towards anything that was forced upon him and it was more than evident that this entailed more than just a school-related project.

Mr. Farrell managed a tired smile at his two students as they stared at him expectantly, silently urging him to justify his actions.

Was it too much to say that he was feeling intimidated by them?

"Well, sir, what is this project that you want us to do?" Dawn spoke up, adding a pinch of sharpness to her voice, which he was very capable of picking on.

Why, no. To say he was intimidated by these two children would even be an understatement.

"Hold up." Kenny spoke up from his seat in the front of the class, just a few feet behind Dawn and Paul. "How come these losers get assigned different tasks? Are you choosing your favorites for this class, sir? Because I'd sure like to know how to become one." He leaned forwards and tugged on Dawn's sleeve. "Mind sharing your secret, asocial girl?"

Dawn pulled her arm away and briefly turned around to give him an unimpressed look. Mr. Farrell cleared his throat and stood up in an attempt to put the idea of his authority into the thick-skinned brat's head.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Kengo. All of you shall be assigned such projects by the end of the class. But seeing as you're so eager to do extra school work, I'll make sure to give you more assignments to keep you busy at home." The teacher smiled at the boy genuinely, but he only scowled in return.

Farrell coughed slightly and turned his attention back to Dawn and Paul. "Now, you two follow me. The rest of you, keep doing your work. I'll be back in a few minutes, so I suggest you don't pull any nonsense."

He exited the classroom with the two on his heels and led them to his office at the end of the hall. The tutor had half-expected Dawn to burst out the moment the door closed behind them, but contrary to his expectations, she was staring at him patiently, waiting for him to explain himself.

He smiled at her; it seemed that she _was_ capable of keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself after all and he was grateful for being granted the opportunity to talk before getting attacked.

"Alright, here's what you two will have to do." The teacher rounded his desk and sat in his chair, motioning for the two to sit down as well. "I want each of you to write me an essay on the topic _Why life is amazing. _Deadline is the end of the term, so you have plenty of time to complete it."

Dawn and Paul both stared at him blankly, as if unsure how to respond. He simply smiled at them. "That's it."

The blue-haired girl was the first to speak up. "Wait, what? If that's all we have to do, then why do we have to be in a pair? And why are we the only ones who are getting assigned this?"

Paul merely gave her a side glance, but nodded in agreement, setting his gaze on Farrell once again. The teacher's smile only widened. "There's a very good reason why you'll be doing this as a pair. Of course, I expect separately written essays from each of you, but the point of this project is to explore _why _life is amazing and do it _together."_

Dawn just blinked at him, confusion painted all across her face. The tutor intertwined his fingers together and leaned forwards, resting his chin on them. "What I expect of you is to find and share reasons on the topic, using your combined intelligence and experiences. Because both of them add up to quite a lot, as I'm sure you're going to find out."

The girl was still staring uncomprehendingly and Paul joined her by shooting his teacher a look of disbelief. Farrell ignored them both and cleared his throat lightly, pulling out the same sheet of paper from before. "As for your other question, Miss Berlitz, I can assure you that all of your classmates will be assigned projects of this nature as well. The reason I'm giving them to you individually is that everyone's topic is different."

"Why?"

"This is a task which is intended to be more beneficial for the students than the teacher and each person's topic is different depending on something I've observed that I think they should do some thinking on." The looks on his students' faces in that moment could only be described as _what the hell are you babbling about, dude?_ "Since you're both looking at me rather confusedly, I think it'd be best if I gave you an example. Okay, let's see…"

He paused for a brief moment and moved his gaze across the paper in his hand. "Yes, here's Mr. Kengo's assigned topic. _Why bullying isn't good and what reasons one might have for taking it up. _You see, the aim of this project is to make you _think _and help you overcome something I've observed you're struggling with."

Dawn furrowed her eyebrows. "By that logic, are Paul and I by any chance walking around with _I'm giving up on life _imprinted on our foreheads? Because that's what you're making it sound like."

"I can assure I am implying nothing of the sort. If you take a look at this list, I'm sure you'll notice that you're the only ones in the class who'll be doing this as a pair. And before you say anything, I want to ask of you that you trust me on this. I truly think that you can both benefit from this arrangement."

Mr. Farrell stood up from his desk and went to the door of his office, holding it open for the two teenagers. As they passed in front of him, he added quietly, "You'll both find out you're more similar to each other than you know. And I think it's going to help you."

None of them said anything and the three just walked back to the classroom in silence. Before they went in however, Farrell turned to Dawn. "I trust you to use your brain, Dawn. I hope whatever's going on at your home gets resolved and doesn't require you to take such drastic measures, but if it does…" The look he gave her was almost fatherly. "I trust you to be careful. And I hope you know that you can trust me too."

The girl just nodded in return.

As the three of them entered the classroom, different thoughts sashayed through their minds.

_Whatever we're supposed to share, I can't afford to pour all my problems on the head of yet another person._

_We can't possibly have anything in common._

_If this works out the way I planned, I'm going to quit my job and become a pro counsellor._

* * *

_The aim of this report is to describe Paul Shinji's involvement in the school organization, known among the students as "Here for each other" and outline the progress he's made as a member of it so far._

_As I'm sure you already know, this so-called club plays the role of a support group in the school society; something, which I can confirm is very beneficial for the students, especially for those who feel somewhat isolated and maybe even unwanted by their peers._

_Your brother, however, shows no signs of being either of those things and still, I can proudly say that he is making great use of said organization. He does seem reluctant to engage in human contact, although I'm sure you'll notice a gradual change in that aspect. You might not quite understand what I mean by this, but all I'm going to say is that the club has welcomed a new member and it's one, which I think young Mr. Shinji is quite likely to take an interest in._

_But enough of me being a wannabe psychic, giddy gossip girl and a pathetic excuse for a teacher, who doesn't really have anything else to do with his life. Most importantly, enough of me being a formal jackass, while all I'm dying to ask here is,_

_What's new with you, Reggie? Any new cookie batter I ought to know about? :)_

_P.S. Drop by the school if you feel like it sometime, but please note that you won't be acknowledged unless you're bringing one of your heavenly cakes. I must have your recipe._

**I honestly didn't intend to include so much of Mr. Farrell. Hehe, kinda strayed from my plan on that one. Anyways, he won't have that much of a major role from here on out, although I really like him. Oh well.**

**Lack of Paul backstory and Paul-centered stuff overall, which I'm sorry for, but intend to make up for in future chapters.**

**Also, cyber cookie for you if you spotted the Harry Potter reference (it's too obvious, but I just couldn't resist).**


	4. Screaming Yellow

_**I'm so sorry, y'all deserved an update much sooner. I hope you enjoy!  
I don't own Pokémon.**_

_**Chapter 4 - Screaming Yellow**_

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Hey there and before you say anything about how annoying I am, I'd like to propose a truce. And I know you said you won't be replying anymore, but I just need some advice. Judging by our correspondence so far I'd say that you're fairly constipated when it comes to the social skills department (and I'm in no way saying this to insult you, merely making an observation), but I don't have anyone else to talk to. Sad, right? I know. Oh, well, gotta do what I can even if it means relying on you for advice._

_So, here's my dilemma. Imagine you're being forced into a situation involving another person, about whom you know next to nothing, and you have to discuss some deep shit with them and even get some inspiration out of the whole exchange. The person you have to work with – someone you think is unlikely you'll ever come to communicate normally with and who is totally different from you, even though a third person implies that you are connected on some deeper (and, in my personal opinion, imaginary) level, so you have to make an effort to find those supposed similarities, BUT the other person seems like the hardest person on earth to even begin to understand and talk to (key word being seems – like I said, you are basically strangers, but that's the aura the person gives off, so you can pretty much tell), plus you've only had a couple of past encounters with them and they haven't exactly been of the most mundane nature, so things are awkward and on top of that you've already come across as the weirdest person on the planet and even though you don't care about the impression you've made on them, you have to cooperate with them for a fair amount of time and feel that your past experiences with them might complicate the already unlikely to be successful communication._

_Okay, did you imagine it? A pretty sucky situation, no? So, anyways, my question is: what does the first person do? To, like… Err, I don't know… handle the situation? If you have any relevant advice to offer AT ALL, I'll be glad to take it, because I honestly have got nothing and I've been racking my brains for ideas, but without luck._

_By the way, how's your brother holding up?_

_escaping my thoughts  
__Thanks for your observations, I didn't remember asking for them, but I sure am glad you decided to share them with me (note the sarcasm). I knew you didn't have any friends, but I have to say I didn't expect you to turn to, quoting, a "jerkface", "socially retarded", "rude little prick" and "jackass" such as myself for advice. But I'm truly flattered to be bothered by your nonsense once again. It honestly warms my heart._

_The cringeworthy construction of your sentences made it fairly hard to understand what you're babbling about, but I managed to understand one thing, namely that you've been smoking something causing serious hallucinations. How ridiculous can your life get? Or is it just that you suck with descriptions?_

_Seems to me that you're excessively overthinking the whole situation, which has contributed to worsening the chaos that's obviously swirling in your head. All that first, second and third persons you refer to only perplex your utterance, so I'm going to give them names. The first person, let's call him Joe, can't possibly know what the second person, who we'll refer to as George, is all about; the two are, after all, strangers to one another; people aren't always what they seem to be, and even if they are, you can be sure that there's a lot more depth to them than that first impression. My advice – get to know them at least a little before you make any conclusions and if that is as hard as you make it out to be AND it is absolutely obligatory that you cooperate with them, then make a damn effort. You might spend a lifetime in struggles to understand someone, but you have to at least make a hell of a try of it before you give up. I can't tell you anything else regarding your problem._

_What you have been racking for ideas will remain a mystery to me, since I doubt that whatever lies inside your head is an actual brain._

_Had to drag my brother being a sufferer of my poisonous presence, didn't you? Don't worry, he's holding up as fine as a garden weed. Simply can't get rid of him. Or you._

_I'd appreciate it if our correspondence ended here, but you're too annoying not to reply, so I wouldn't bet any money on it. Well, at least you didn't shower me with profanities this time, which is a nice breath of fresh air and definitely an improvement. Good job, you might actually be headed on the road to growing out of your imbecility._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Did I really call you all those things? Huh._

_Don't you worry, I'll always be here to "annoy you with my nonsense". I'm glad you're enjoying it._

_Well, excuse me for my poor writing skills. I am no_

_**you**, after all. (The latest chapter you posted was great, by the way. I know you have a phobia of compliments, I hope your head doesn't explode from this one.)_

_I haven't been smoking anything, thank you very much, but I do suck with descriptions. Although you managed to get the idea of it, so I'll note that as an improvement in my skills._

_The first person is a girl, how did you not get that?! Let's call her Jasmine instead. So, you're saying Jasmine doesn't know what George is all about and should get to know him better. That's good advice, but what if George doesn't want to share anything with her or get to know her in return? I'm telling you, he seems less sociable than a rock. Anyways, I really appreciate your advice. Who knew you could be helpful?_

_Don't you worry your pretty little head with the location of my brain. And let me assure you - I do have one._

_Ah, I'm glad your brother hasn't thrown himself off a bridge yet, give him a hug on my behalf. And I know that you don't want to get rid of me. I imagine I'm your only friend, so be careful not to get on my bad side._

_Calling you profanities isn't a sign of imbecility, ever heard of the saying "I call it as I see it"? I'm glad you're noticing an improvement and you're damn right I won't stop bothering you. Don't pretend you're annoyed by it, Sunshine. I know you like me._

_escaping my thoughts__  
You're wrong._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Wow. Three whole words. I'm flattered, Sunshine._

_escaping my thoughts  
__Tsk. Annoying._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__And yet, you keep replying._

_escaping my thoughts__  
It would seem, you're not the only one with a mental dysfunction._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
No, since I don't __**have **__one. You're right though, you totally do._

_escaping my thoughts__  
I keep replying to you, which is proof enough of a disorder. Don't tell my brother though, he'll send me to the psychiatrist's again._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
That's where you belong, dearie._

_escaping my thoughts  
__Hn._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__And what's that supposed to mean?_

_escaping my thoughts  
__You're annoying. And I'm only messaging you because I'm bored out of mind._

* * *

"Mr. Shinji, I suggest you put that phone away this instant unless you want detention." Mrs. Nolan called out in her monotonous voice, making Paul roll his eyes before he put his phone back in his pocket. "You too, Miss Berlitz. When I said you can entertain yourselves on your own till the end of the period, I meant _homework._"

"I was just doing research for my History project, Ma'am." The girl's smooth voice rang out from somewhere behind him. He briefly turned around to see her holding out her phone to their teacher so that she could see what was on the screen.

Paul narrowed his eyes at her sugary smile. The girl noticed him staring and regarded him with a brief look, which was enough to give away her amusement of the whole situation. Her blue eyes were shining with mirth as she smirked at him and returned her attention back to Mrs. Nolan, who accepted her excuse and let her keep using her phone.

The boy turned back around with a scoff. Teachers were so stupid nowadays. And silly little lying girls, who look like water nymphs, shouldn't get their way this easily.

A minute later his attention was caught by the vibrating of his phone, which signaled a new notification email. He took a cautious look at Mrs. Nolan, who had resumed sitting in a stooping position behind a stack of papers on her desk and tsk-ing with disapproval as she checked them one by one. He fished his phone out and opened the message he had received.

_silence is my jam but I like rock too_  
_Wish Jasmine luck. She's going in for the gold._

He didn't have a chance to reply with an _'I don't give a damn about Jasmine,'_ because he suddenly felt someone take the seat beside him. Paul turned to his right to stare at _the girl_ who had swiftly moved from her desk in the back as soundlessly as a cat and was currently looking at him with the most innocent and fake smile he'd ever seen.

He scowled at her and said "what," through gritted teeth. She appeared unaffected by his hostility and kept smiling widely, making his irritation grow in an instant.

"We have to work together, don't we? For the Farrell thing?"

"I remember," he spat out, letting her know just what he thought of the whole arrangement. Her smile wavered a bit and he saw her eyes flash with annoyance for a brief second, but she kept her bubbly façade in check.

He narrowed his eyes at the happy display she insisted on keeping on and wondered what it was about her obvious falseness that infuriated him so much. It was as if since their last encounter, namely the one that resulted in them being forced to work together by Farrell, she had built a wall around her, whose purpose was to conceal her true self, the essence of her entity.

_Well, to hell with that._

Paul had no intention of tearing down any figurative walls or figuring out just what was up with this weird girl, because he hated a lot of things, but liars were something he simply couldn't _stand_.

His previous encounters with her had peeked his curiosity, sure, and he could see how she could have some things she might want to keep away from the public's attention; but it wasn't any of his concern to find a reason why that may be and he was perfectly fine with leaving it at that.

"Okay then," she carried on in an unabashed matter, letting her smile falter a little to make way for a contemplative look. "How do you propose we go about this project thing? We're supposed to explore the ways in which _life is amazing._" She said it almost apathetically, as if she didn't quite believe the idea herself.

Paul stared at her for a few seconds, before she looked up at him with her big blue eyes, reminding him that the silence was his cue to answer. He didn't move his gaze away from her as he replied. "It doesn't matter to me how we do it."

She rolled her eyes and he suddenly felt the urge to do so too. What exactly did she expect him to say? "Do you happen to have any ideas?" She asked, even though it was obvious that _no, he didn't have any ideas._

Paul didn't answer and the girl raised her eyebrows. "That's a no, then?" He sent her a brief glare and watched as amusement filled her eyes. "Fine. My suggestion is to start exploring in the literal sense. Find ordinary things in the everyday life of other people which make it amazing. Write them down, turn them in and get it over with."

She smiled brilliantly and he could see certain impatience in her gaze. "How's that for a plan?"

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the edgy aura she was giving off, but caught himself before it had managed to turn into a full smirk. "I told you, whatever works. When do we start?"

"Wait by the entrance at the end of the classes." Before he could say anything in response, she soundlessly slipped back to her previous seat, effectively ending the conversation.

Mrs. Nolan stood up from her desk and scanned the classroom with her sharp gaze, before she proclaimed the class dismissed. Paul took his bag and went out in the busy hallway, passing by idiotically shouting and chattering students on his way towards his locker. As he took out the books he'd need for his next period, his thoughts involuntarily led him to _the girl,_ as he referred to her in his mind, rather than using her actual name.

She had solidified his definition of her as strange, but he knew there was more to it. That, however, was knowledge he preferred to disregard as irrelevant, because that's what she was to him after all. And the fact that he was going to be seeing a lot more of her didn't give her some brand-new significance in his life.

It really didn't. He wasn't stupid though. He knew that in order to keep it that way, he had to keep his slowly, but admittedly, growing curiosity in check, because that girl seemed to be the kind of girl that makes you wonder. And if he wasn't careful, his rarely expressed ability to do just that, _wonder_, would lead him to something complex and bothersome, just like her.

No girl, not even girls that looked like water nymphs, with their long midnight blue tresses and eyes like shiny mountain lakes, could be significant enough to merit his attention.

Still, he wondered as he made his way towards the entrance of the school building later that day, why his astute intuition was screaming at him to remember the moment he became entangled in her life, because it somehow would be important one day.

* * *

_George is a fucking idiot, _Dawn thought as she made her way through the crowded hallways with her phone in her hands, typing the exact same sentence to her online pen-pal.

_escaping my thoughts _honored her with a reply only half a minute later.  
_  
Jasmine must have had a real profound conversation with him to come to that conclusion._

The girl smirked as she paused in front of the big oak gate of the school building to type an answer.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Jasmine tried. Jasmine failed._

After pressing the send button, she took two long strides to the doors of the entrance, stepping outside and stuffing her phone in her pocket in the process. The late afternoon sun was throwing powerful beams of orange light and she had to narrow her eyes in order to see. Her gaze found the person she was looking for after a few moments of searching.

He was casually leaning on the railing next to the stairs and staring at the screen of his phone. Dawn took a deep breath as if to prepare herself, and let a smile slip onto her face as she approached him with a hop in her step. "Hey!" She greeted and fought the urge to cringe at the artificiality in her own voice.

Paul looked up at her with raised eyebrows and she suppressed the urge to shiver under his gaze. She felt as though his intense obsidian eyes could see right through her and the façade she had been constructing around herself. The thought unnerved her, but she tried not to let it show and smiled even more widely instead.

He rolled his eyes as he straightened up from his leaning position, confirming Dawn's suspicions that he didn't believe the picture perfect she was trying to keep up. She exhaled and forced some of her nervousness away.

Paul spared her a bored look as he spoke up, "What now?"

"Well, if you don't have anything to do, I was thinking we could do some exploring now." She searched his face for a reaction, but all she was met with was a blank stare.

"Alright. Exploring what?" He started going down the stairs and Dawn hurried to follow.

"I dunno… we could go in the park and observe the way people act or something of the sort." The look he threw her way screamed of incredulity. She smiled sheepishly, willing away the blush of embarrassment which threatened to bloom on her face.

He continued staring at her weirdly and just as she got annoyed to the point where she was ready to chew out a wrathful rant in defense of her idea, he smirked unexpectedly and said a simple "alright", before continuing on his way down the stairs once again. Dawn opened and closed her mouth in confusion, before puffing out a cheek in indignation, coming to the conclusion that he just took a guilty pleasure in riling her up.

_Don't let him get to you_, _Dawn. Just breathe._

"So, we're watching people in the park?" Dawn gritted her teeth as she heard the unmistakable derision in his voice.

"Yes," she snapped back sharply.

"No need to get touchy, I was simply double-checking."

_Jerk. _Dawn exhaled in frustration and tried to focus her attention on something else. She saw a puddle a few feet ahead and made sure to step in it with extra force as they passed it by. She giggled at the splash she created and hopped on to another puddle just up ahead.

It was surprisingly easy to ignore the cranky vibes Paul was emitting when you were a childish idiot, the girl mused as she jumped in a particularly deep puddle and caused sprays to fly out and soak her companion.

"Cut it out." She started walking backwards so that she could face the human embodiment of the rainy cloud, which was insistent on crapping on her parade.

"You're a real buzzkill, you know that?"

"And you're annoying." Paul scowled at her as he walked forwards with slightly slouched shoulders.

Dawn rolled her eyes. Apparently, everyone communicating with her agreed on that aspect. Stupid Paul. Stupid pen-pal. "Tell me something I haven't been told yet, why don't you?"

Still walking in a poor imitation of Michael Jackson's trademark dance move, she started fumbling in her backpack and got out her phone and some big-ass headphones in a screaming yellow color. She felt Paul's quizzical gaze on her, but ignored it as she plugged them in and selected a song from her library, immediately beginning to move her head and feet to the beat.

"_All I wanna say is that. They don't really care about us." _Dawn was very aware of how off-key her singing was, but she's be damned if she cared, so she just closed her eyes and smiled goofily as she resumed her walking, this time in the normal direction.

She couldn't really hear anything from the loud music of her headphones, but she could imagine Paul saying something sarcastic or stating the degree to which she irritated him or something of the sort. She couldn't care less about any of that, but after two songs her curiosity got the better of her and she turned around, moving one headphone upwards. To her astonishment, Paul was scribbling something in a notebook as he walked with a weirdly suiting contemplative look on his face.

"What'cha doing?" She asked, unable to stifle her curiosity. He looked up and she saw his eyes fill with irritation at the interruption.

Dawn imagined he'd snap back with something along the lines of '_how's it any of your business?' _or not reply at all, but she was surprised when he straightforwardly regarded her with an answer. "Working on my essay."

Her jaw dropped and she stopped dead in her tracks. "You're _what_?" She asked incredulously, but Paul just rolled his eyes and passed her by offhandedly. "I… you… what… _how_?!"

"You're being loud. And annoying." The boy tsk-ed as he carried on walking, threatening to step out of Dawn's hearing range soon. She rallied and hurried to fall back in step with him.

"And you're not answering my question! How could you possibly be working on the essay already? What would you even write about?"

Paul rolled his eyes _yet again_ and Dawn had to bite her tongue to restrain herself from telling him to cut it off. He turned his head sideways and bore his intense gaze into her eyes, making her wonder for a second how someone could have irises _that_ dark. "The aim of this whole road trip is to explore reasons which make different people's lives amazing, isn't it? Well, that's what I'm doing. And I'm writing them down so that I don't forget them. Does that answer your question?"

Dawn furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "But we haven't even reached the park yet or observed any specific people."

He didn't move his intense gaze from her. "I am allowed to make observations outside the things you order. Right?"

"Of course, but… I mean, _what_ observations did you manage to make from this big old road of dust? No offence to the dust or anything, but it's… well, _not_ the most interesting or inspirational thing in the world."

Paul didn't answer and focused his eyes straight ahead once again, while putting his notebook back in his bag. She followed it with her eyes until it was out of her view and frowned. "Aren't you going to tell me what you wrote down? I have an essay to write too, you know."

He blatantly ignored her and put his own headphones in his ears, effectively preventing the conversation from progressing any further.

"Fine, _be_ inspired by dust."_ What a drama queen._

Dawn caught herself taking up Paul's trademark eye-roll. She resumed listening to the music coming from her monstrous headphones and tried walking normally, but ended up failing and giving in to the beat once again as she took ridiculous steps forward, jumping and spinning insanely.

Maintaining a normal front had never been a strong side of hers, anyways. The idiot in her just took over sometimes and she couldn't care less about Paul's opinion on it; as far as her concern went, he was stuck with her for a good whole term of school, so he'd have to just find a way to deal with it.

What other people thought of her wasn't any of her business, anyway.

* * *

People were annoying, Paul concluded as his aimless stroll was approaching its end, slowly and agonizingly. They were annoying with their screaming little kids, who reached the sky on their swings not having a care in the world, with their dogs, which barked loudly and shitted wherever the hell they pleased, with their perfect little lives, which remained pure of the world's horrors. He had no way of knowing what all the other people he shared this planet with had endured and he knew he shouldn't be judging any stranger, who wore a smile on his face, because that wasn't how he was brought up.

But a lot of things had happened while aforementioned bringing up took place, so he would judge whoever the hell he wanted. He was a hypocrite, he knew, but people were still annoying.

"Can you believe how many colors there are in the sky right now?"

And ironically, there he was, stuck with the most annoying person of them all.

She still had Reggie to beat though.

Deciding to humor her, he looked up and took in the spectacular view before him. The sky was beautiful in that moment, that much he couldn't deny, and contrary to popular belief, he _was, _in fact, able to appreciate beauty when he saw it.

_The girl _sighed from beside him with something he identified as contentment. Close to it, anyways. It was weird for him to see someone express such a positive emotion while being around him, but _that girl_ was an exception when it came to most things, it seemed.

Someone who had shown so many different sides to them in the span of just a day deserved to be labeled as an exception as far as he was concerned. That much she had earned from him.

He briefly wondered what else she would come to be in his eyes during their partnership.

She had started out with fake smiles and false cheeriness, but some genuine parts of her entity had randomly shone through as well. That didn't necessarily mean she had dropped her guard around him and it was plain to see that there was a long way to go to reach that point, if _ever_. He couldn't say he minded. They weren't friends, he was just as distant, if not more so, and there wasn't anything special about the fragile and purely superficial connection they had been forced into.

And still, as they walked in peaceful silence across one of the quieter streets of the city, whose skyline was illuminated by the setting sun, he wondered where this whole thing was going and if at the end of the project the girl with the midnight blue hair, which was an equally ridiculous color as his own, would remain as much of an enigma.

"Okay then," the fairy girl spoke up and Paul turned around, realizing she had stopped walking. "This is where I live. Thanks for walking me home."

He was about to say that he didn't intend on walking her home at all, since he didn't even know which direction she lived in. The girl smiled before he could tell her that and the falseness of her smile suddenly sent him into alert mode.

"Have a nice evening, Paul," she said, the smile, which didn't reach her eyes, still in place, as if jammed onto her face with a hammer. She started walking across the driveway towards one of the neatly lined up gray houses on the street, while Paul followed her with his narrowed eyes.

Upon his first look at the plain gray house, the thought which immediately flooded his mind was that it looked so unlike the proper home for a girl with such horrendously yellow headphones and a fascination for puddles. Somehow though, he didn't doubt that that _was_ indeed her house.

What he was sure of, however, was that something felt off. And his gut feeling usually never failed him.

He didn't know if it had been her obviously fake smile, or her posture and way of walking, which seemed to be too jolly for someone who was returning home to a house as grim-looking as that one. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong.

"You don't plan on spending the night at school again, do you?" He suddenly called to her and watched her back stiffen as she froze a few steps from her front door. She turned around to look at him with false innocence and he wondered how a liar like her could be that easy to read.

"Of course not. Don't worry about me, Paul." She smiled at him again and waved goodbye somewhat expectantly, this time in no hurry to enter the house as she apparently waited for him to walk away.

He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. It was so obvious to him that she was lying, but he knew how stubborn she could get, so he opted for a different technique to ensure she didn't spend the night at the school's storage room.

The boy cleared his throat and spoke up nonchalantly, "Do you happen to have anything to eat in there? I'm _starving_."

Damn, he sounded ridiculous. No wonder she looked at him as if he had grown a second head. He coughed lightly as he tried to not let his embarrassment show, "Well?"

She looked confused for a moment, before she smiled again and motioned for him to follow her. "Yeah. Sure, come inside. I can make you a sandwich or something."

"Thanks," he breathed out as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked behind her, taking note of the uneasiness in her stance. He wasn't sure what his plan of action was. To wait until one of her parents came home so that she wouldn't be able to sneak out afterwards? Stand guard in front of her house like a watchdog?

He mentally sighed. The predicaments he found himself into recently were getting more and more ridiculous, not to mention bothersome. At the back of his mind, he noted how all of those situations somehow revolved around the girl and once again reminded himself how annoying and troublesome she was.

He noticed her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and wondered if she would have already gotten away from her house if it wasn't for his supposedly empty stomach. As they entered, he narrowed his eyes at his surroundings. The small hallway, which led to the staircase, was dark and unadorned, except for a hanger which held a few women'с coats and a small shoe cabinet.

Paul followed Dawn as she took a turn and entered a spacious room which combined a living room and a kitchen in one. There weren't any living room essentials missing - the TV was in place, and so were the couch and coffee table pointed at it, along with two big armchairs; and yet, he felt as if though something that was supposed to be there wasn't. He couldn't determine exactly what it was, until his eyes fell on the shelf above the fireplace, which was void of any pictures or cheesy souvenirs that usually gathered dust in normal family houses.

Dawn was staring at him, he noted, as he hurried to move his eyes away from the incriminating shelf, which told him more about the girl than any of her fake smiles. She looked away as well and went over to the fridge behind the kitchen counter in the other half of the room.

"Okay, there's ham, cucumbers, tomatoes, tuna and butter. Not really much of a choice, but still. What would you like your sandwich with?"

Considering he wasn't hungry at all, he opted for the lightest sandwich possible, only cucumbers and butter. Dawn raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't comment on his choice as she quickly prepared what he had requested.

"There," she handed it to him after putting some wrapping paper around it like an expert sandwich saleswoman. "Would you like some napkins for the way?"

He shook his head no, not missing the way she was parenthetically urging him out of the house. As they went back out in the hallway, his sharp ears picked up on a sound from outside, which sounded like a car being abruptly pulled up in the driveway and he mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done on keeping the girl away from the school's storage room for the night.

Dawn seemed to have heard the noise as well, but her reaction was of an entirely different nature from his. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she murmured to herself, "It's way too early for her to be-" Her eyes suddenly went wide and before Paul could understand what was happening, she had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him further down the corridor towards what seemed to be a back door.

She hastily opened it for him and practically pushed him outside, while he was wondering what the hell was going on. "Go!" She said demandingly and he recognized the urgency in her voice.

"_J'hanna! Johanna, where are you_?" Something clicked together in Paul's brain as he heard a man's slurred words echo from the front door.

He didn't have time to react though as Dawn hastily slammed the door after him and locked it in one swift move. The situation finally caught up to him as he finally comprehended what was going on, but it was too late to do anything from his position.

He banged his fist against the back door and shouted, "Let me in, Dawn!" but it was no use.

There wasn't a response from the other side and all he could do was stare ahead, stupefied by the knowledge of what his efforts to keep the girl from sneaking off had just cost her.

* * *

_Essay notes:_

_Her smiles are false, but jumping in puddles seems to be as genuine a joy as it is an oddity._

_She has her guard up, but she still can't help giving in to the beat of her favorite music and there is nothing fake about the ludicrous way in which she moves her feet and head, absolutely uncaring about the opinion of a stranger._

_She comes across as someone familiar with darkness and the concept doesn't seem to scare her._

_But her ridiculous hair and horrifyingly yellow headphones only bring more color into the world._

_And she sees it for what it is, aware of and acquainted with its bad sides, but not afraid to revel in its good ones.  
_


	5. Rusty Bonds

_**Chapter 5 - Rusty Bonds**_

Dawn frowned as she critically inspected herself in the mirror.

It hadn't been intentional on her dad's part, she knew, but that knowledge didn't make the area around her eye any less blue. She sighed and put down the cover-up. It was no use. No foundation could get deep enough in her pores to hide the bruise.

She knew she couldn't skip class, not after what Paul had witnessed the day before. Not showing up would make it seem like a big deal and she didn't want making a bigger drama of her life than it actually was, especially in front of him.

He, who seemed like the type of person to despise any living thing that showed any signs of weakness. Nuh-uh. Not a chance she was going to give him a reason to view her that way.

Seeing her weaknesses was the first step towards using them against her. And she wouldn't have any of that. Not after what had happened with Kenny. Never again.

Still, she couldn't help the contempt from showing on her face as she opened the cabinet above the sink, deciding to go for the drastic solution the situation called for.

_Halloween is approaching anyway._

* * *

Paul was rarely one to get confused.

He was always conscious of the things, which concerned him and was able to put a label on every situation and to store it in a category in his mind, so that everything was in place. In balance.

Neat. Organized. That's the way it had always been.

And yet, there he was, scandalized to find himself absolutely _puddingheaded_.

And because of _the girl_, of all people. This girl, who wasn't supposed to be anything out of the normal, yet she was as far from ordinary as one could get. He still couldn't comprehend how exactly she had managed to throw him so off balance, but it was a fact that she had waltzed in his life and it had changed irreversibly.

It wasn't a dramatic change, not a visible one at least. He doubted it was even noticeable to a side observer, but the important thing was that _he_ noticed it. The girl had him utterly baffled, completely unintentionally too, and he just couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that made him so_ curious_.

He hated it when things got out of his control. And he knew this minor perplexity was only the beginning. It simply wouldn't do for him to get this baffled because of little fairy girls, who didn't even know how confused they made him.

So, when he saw her enter the classroom with impossibly dramatic make-up covering her eyes and the most of her face, he only allowed himself three seconds to stare.

Curiosity was dangerous. And this girl, _Dawn_, threatened to unleash it within him in its full potential.

Hell, he knew she already had.

She sat next to him, but didn't say anything or even look his way. The silence suited him just fine as he struggled not to give in to the intriguing mystery, which she had brought in with herself and her artistically painted eyes.

"Hey, DeeDee!" Paul sensed her stiffening from next to him as the annoying brunet brat, to others also known as Kenny Kengo, made his presence known by leaning on their desk with his mocking eyes fixated on Dawn. "I like the way you've clowned yourself up today. Any special occasion?"

Paul saw the girl's fists clench. "Sod off, Kenny."

The brown-haired boy paid her no attention as he sat on the chair in front of them so that his elbows rested on its back as he faced them. "As much as I enjoy your vivid representation of the classic drag queen look, I have to say this time you've gone way too far on your quest for attention, don't you think?" He met her glare with a twisted smile. "Tell me, Deedee…"

He leaned in closer to her and Paul could barely hear his next words.

"What do your parents think about your unusual choice of make up?"

Dawn froze and Kenny's sadistic smile widened even more. "What do you want," she gritted out venomously and for the first time Paul saw her glare with something almost akin to hatred, an emotion so out of place in her bright blue eyes, which had now darkened as if in an after effect of a defense mechanism getting triggered inside of her.

Kenny laughed dryly. "Don't you worry your adorable head, DeeDee. As long as you don't get on my bad side, there's no need for _them_," he nodded towards the rest of the class, "to know just on what occasions you uglify your pretty face. But you know how fast information spreads around this school…"

Paul swore Dawn's knuckles couldn't get any whiter.

"One little drop of gossip spilled and who knows what might happen."

Kenny cleared his throat as he stood up from the chair. "Oh, and by the way," he paused as he leaned close to her once again and traced her upper cheek with his index finger lightly, "Missed a spot."

He walked away and Paul was shocked to see Dawn almost shaking. If it was from rage or something else, he couldn't tell, since she wouldn't turn her face towards him. Without a word, she got up from her seat and stalked out of the classroom, passing by the teacher, who didn't even notice her fly by him as he entered.

Paul stared at her back until she disappeared in the hallway and then turned to glare at Kenny, who had been looking at the same direction with a smirk. It was obvious there was more to the whole exchange than he, who was just a side observer, could understand.

And yet, he felt involved. Responsible. Guilty, even.

Because he didn't know what had happened between Dawn and Kenny, or what had transpired the previous night after the backdoor of Dawn's house had been shut in his face.

But he, too, had noticed the faint blue taint peeking under all the make-up below her eye.

* * *

Dawn cringed as she saw her reflection in the blurred mirror of the girls bathroom and cursed Kenny's keen eyesight to high hell and back.

She whipped out the nude cover-up and dark eyeshadow from her hoodie's pocket and tried to stop the shaking in her hands in order to re-apply it below her eye.

_Damn it. _She set the make-up down next to the sink and ran her hands through her hair.  
Amongst the anger swirling inside of her, was a more overwhelming, more stinging emotion, that made her feel sick to her stomach. Hurt and betrayal.

And it hadn't been so much for the words, as it had been for the person who'd said them.

Kenny really did know how to press her buttons. He knew exactly what words to say to get under her skin. But what was more, he knew exactly what to say to _make it hurt_. And he used that knowledge as good as a sharpened knife against her.

_Who would believe that we were once friends, _Dawn thought sardonically as she kneeled down and leaned her back on the cold tiled wall.

_What happened, Kenny? What made you like this?_

Questions, whose answers she wasn't entitled to.

_What could I have done to prevent this?_

Regrets she had no way of fixing.

_How did we even get here?_

She allowed herself only two more minutes of self-pity and dwelling on things she had no way of knowing. Only two more minutes of weakness.

And when they were over, it was time for her to pick herself up again, to build that untouchable fortress that protected her, even though on the inside she was a screaming and crying mess of a girl with more insecurities than she could count, who desperately needed help, desperately needed _someone_, to understand, to accept and to just _be her friend_.

But what was on the inside had no business showing on the outside. What good could it do, anyway? She didn't deserve to have friends, she knew that. The few she had had, she had treated poorly and driven away, and her current friendless state was entirely her own fault.

Dawn reapplied the make-up around her eyes, from which tears had almost come spilling in waterfalls, but not quite, because tears were something that her ten-year old self had learnt to suppress since they were useless. They didn't do anything to fix the situation that had caused them. Their worth expanded to being a sign of weakness, nothing more.

Dawn took one last look at the mirror and was surprised to see how composed the girl staring back at her looked. A cold, detached look in her eyes, which she loved because it hid the sparkling shitshow that was dancing in a conga line underneath.

As close to perfect as she could get.

She left the bathroom with that lie on her face, that lie she actually aspired to one day become, but pretended to be until she could be it for real. Because for as cold and distant that she may seem, she actually cared an excessive lot, which was nothing short of bothersome and annoying and downright painful at times.

Dawn had left her bag in the classroom, but didn't feel like making a grand entrance in the middle of the lecture and thus attracting the

attention of the class to herself. Instead, she walked to the other side of the school where the storage room was and borrowed a few books that she had on her to-read list.

She waited till five minutes after the class was over to ensure that her classmates would have already left. When she entered the classroom however, she was met with a pair of sapphire blue eyes filled with determination. She almost did a double take as she realized who they belonged to.

May was standing right in front of the desk where she had left her backpack, undoubtedly on purpose. Dawn had no interest in finding out her intentions, but she contemplated how she could take her stuff and leave without engaging in a confrontation.

She made two nonchalant steps towards her bag before May stepped directly in front of her, cutting off her path. Dawn grinded her teeth together. "Excuse me," she tried to side-step, but was cut off again. She glared at the other girl. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk." Dawn scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. May's eyes held resolve of steel though, and that scared her a little. "Dawn. Please."

To her horror, she felt her walls sink a couple inches into the ground at the quiet plea and set herself to avoid looking into the sapphire eyes, which threatened to take down all of her defenses. She took a step back and focused her gaze on a point behind May's shoulder, much like a cornered criminal desperately searching for a possible escape. "Okay, then. Talk."

The determined look in the brunette's eyes dissipated a little and made way for the insecurity that lurked beneath.

"I…" She hesitated. "Look, I… well, I just wanted to know if you're alright. You know… and-" She took a deep breath. "And to say I'm sorry. For… everything."

Dawn almost fell over in her effort not to let her shock show. It took her a second to register what was happening.

May was asking if she was alright. She was concerned about her.

She was _apologizing_.

A wave of guilt washed over her and in an instant, she was angry. At May, but mostly at herself. She didn't deserve this.

"There's nothing to feel sorry for, May." Her eyes and voice were ones of steel, but on the inside she was begging.

_Please, don't go into this. Please, don't be concerned about me. I don't want to be selfish like I was last time. Please, don't break my resolve. Please, just walk away._

"Of course there is! I… I turned my back on you when you needed me most and now I-"

"And now you _what_, May?" Dawn snapped, losing any sense along with the control over her mouth. _Stop, Dawn! Don't take it out on this girl who did so much for you! Don't!_

"Dawn, I-I just…" May's voice wavered as she looked down with shame that had no business on her face, since it wasn't her that needed to feel ashamed.

"Stop it." Dawn's eyes were blazing daggers at this person that she would never want to hurt, but was there, doing just that anyway. "Stop being concerned about me and acting like it would make a difference. It won't."

"Please, just let me-"

"No." An angry tear threatened to escape so she blinked furiously until it was gone. Pushing it back, just like her only shot at a friendship. "Stop it."

May made a step forward, reaching out her hand towards her, but Dawn pulled back sharply. There was no getting rid of that girl. Perhaps the only way was to hurt her so that she'd learn not to feel any goddamn _concern _towards ungrateful bitches like her.

"You're pathetic."

May's arms fell limply to her sides as she finally seemed to give up. Never had Dawn hated herself more than when she saw a couple of tears spill from her former friend's eyes.

She took her backpack and turned her back on the frozen girl. "Stay away from me," she whispered for good measure and with that, stormed out of the classroom and away from the reminder of what a horrible person she was.

_It is better this way. Better to have her hate me than let her be my friend again and use her the way I did last time. She doesn't deserve it._

It's the right choice,

Dawn chanted in her head as she turned the corner and finally stopped to catch her breath. She was still fuming mad, and all at herself.

She remembered the stinging pain from the time when May had finally decided to cut ties with her. She remembered how much she had loathed herself for being so goddamn selfish as to put the weight of her own problems on another person's shoulders and drive them away.

That was a quality of hers that she seemed to possess since the very day she was born and thought it extremely unlikely to get rid of while she was alive. The proof was all there: Kenny, May, her parents. Marina was the only person who still hadn't realized how poisonous Dawn turned out to be for anyone who dared to come near her. And the teenage girl couldn't help but imagine the inevitable future moment when she'd be gone, too.

_Steady, Dawn. Mourn one failed friendship at a time._

Friendship. As if.

Did she even know how to be a proper friend? She doubted it. All she had done and in spite of herself, continued doing, was overwhelming people and putting too much pressure on them. Was her tendency to pour her unresolved issues out to people she was starting to trust the thing that had left her all lonely and friendless?

Dawn felt sick of herself. Was she really that horrible? Had she only used the few friends she had been able to get as emotional trashcans and given them nothing to build a healthy bond on?

She had. She really had. Upon coming to that realization, she just closed her eyes in disgust of her own self. It was really better that no one came near her, because there was nothing she could offer them other than a first-row seat to the shitty show that she put on, full of self-pity and loathing.

It would all have been so much better if she had just learned to keep it all in. At least then, she would have a shot at a longer-lasting friendship; a shallow one, based on concealed feelings and untold stories, but a friendship nevertheless.

If she carried on this way, she was sure to remain lonely for the rest of her life. And she liked to deny a lot of stuff to herself, but she knew for certain that she didn't want that.

The fault was hers entirely, so that's where she should make the change. She knew it, but was too scared to go on the path of self-reconstruction, even though she could barely stand living with her current self.

If she were to gather up enough courage to do it one day, though, she liked to picture her future self as someone worthy of May's friendship.

_As if you'd ever deserve being that girl's friend, Berlitz._

_As if._

* * *

_No. Fucking. Way._

Paul thought he might just drop dead if he stared at the living nightmare before his eyes any longer.

Namely, his brainless brother chirping jubilantly with one of his teachers in the middle of the hall, holding a cake that looked as though a rainbow had puked on it and, what was probably the cherry on top of it all, wearing a _fucking apron_.

As if he couldn't have wasted a second in removing it before prancing all the way to his school to discuss whatever it was he was so enthusiastically discussing with goddamn _Farrell_ of all people.

_I am __**so**__ moving to another planet, _Paul mused to himself as he tried to nonchalantly walk by these loathed acquaintances of his without getting noticed.

Needless to say, he failed miserably.

"Hey, Paul!" Reggie shouted loudly, while flailing his arms above his head stupidly, the fucking apron swaying back and forth. And if the whole situation wasn't enough to make Paul want to overdose on those psychotic pills everyone around him seemed to be on, there was a hand-sewn writing on it in a screaming pink color that read '_Mama-Bear'_.

"Come over here, we were just talking about you!"

Well, that would usually be a huge _NOPE_ for Paul, but knowing that he'd hear all about it when he got home anyway, he didn't see any point in prolonging the inevitable. Plus, a tiny part of him clung onto the feeble hope that Reggie had some limit to the imbecility he could show in public.

Hope died last, but Paul could pretty much see his get hung with the straps of the moronic apron as his brother started jumping up and down, apparently thinking that Paul couldn't see him from across the crowded hallway.

"Cut it out, you idiot, I'm here already." Paul hissed as he joined the two and glared down any student who dared to keep their eyes on them for longer than a millisecond. Mister Farrell, obviously leaving all proper teacher etiquette behind, briefly laughed at his scold, instead of frowning upon his language.

Reggie grinned from ear to ear as he tried to ruffle his brother's hair and withdrew his hand in defeat when it got slapped away. "Well, hello, little bro! You want a piece of joy cake?"

Paul chose to just stare at him with his '_am I seriously related to you'_ look (patent pending), trying to ignore the fact that he had just called that atrocity of a baking experiment a _joy cake._

"Oi, Reggie! That's her." The way Farrell elbowed Reggie like a giddy schoolgirl, who was anonymously presenting her crush to her best friend, instantly set Paul on alert.

He turned around to the object of his teacher's attention and who should he see, but the blue-haired disaster walking down the hallway with her gaze unfocused and eyes still dramatically shouting of artistry as they had when he had last seen her that morning.

Paul didn't have time to ponder on why Mister Farrell would announce her sudden appearance in the hall to his brother of all people, because the teacher wasted no time in calling her over to them. She seemed to break out of her trance and looked around in confusion, before spotting them and walking over.

"Hey, Mr. F. Hey, Paul. What's up?" Paul couldn't help but notice how distracted and faraway her gaze was. Still, she smiled politely, patiently waiting for them to clarify her purpose in this bizarre get-together in the middle of the corridor. Paul turned towards the two men with a raised eyebrow, looking to find out the same thing.

"Hi, you must be Dawn!" Reggie chirpily greeted as he extended his arm for her to shake. She hesitantly did so, moving her eyes between him and Paul in puzzlement. "I'm Reggie, Paul's older brother. He has told me _so_ much about you!"

_What. The. Hell?! _Paul glared at his brother, who chose that moment to avoid his gaze and the promise of a long and painful death behind it.

"Uh… That's nice." Dawn replied, while Paul stood there awkwardly, wondering just what Reggie and Farrell were up to.

"Never shuts about you, in fact." Paul just face-palmed, while Dawn looked at him with a knowing smile, obviously viewing Reggie's banter as a harmless teasing between brothers.

_Yeah, more like a death wish_, Paul scoffed mentally.

"My good friend Joe here," Reggie motioned towards Mr. Farrell, who had never struck Paul as someone that'd be called _Joe_ of all names, "has told me about the teamwork you two will be engaging into. And I have to say, out of all people to have the misfortune being put in a team with my brother, you seem like you'll do just fine at handling him. I know he can get a bit difficult at times, but that's just a part of his charm." Reggie winked and Paul thought he could very well faint then and there and it would be the best thing to happen to him all day.

"I'm sure that it is, sir."

"Please, just call me Reggie. I don't feel that old yet." He laughed briefly and Dawn nodded with a polite smile.

Paul was wondering just how much more of this exchange he would have to endure, when he noticed a devilish glint in Reggie's eyes, which indicated that it was only getting worse from there.

A mischievous look made its way onto his brother's face, with an even scarier shit-eating grin to match. "Say, Dawn… Would you be interested in coming to one of our family reunions?"

Paul's jaw dropped simultaneously with Dawn's. His brother's grin didn't waver an inch. The teen was genuinely tempted to shove the joy cake to his face and suffocate him with it.

Reggie resumed talking. "My brother gets really bored and having you there might help him cope with his burning desire to strangle each of our relatives every time they visit. Don't worry, it'll be fun; we have games planned!"

Dawn's lips moved soundlessly, making her look like a fish on dry land.

Reggie grinned more widely, if that was even possible. Oh, how Paul longed to hit him over the head with a frying pan. "I guarantee that the food will be exquisite. Here, sniff this!"

And he held up the _joy cake_ to the girl's nose like it was fucking Lion King, and all Paul could do was pray for a lightning to strike and kill him then and there as Dawn continued to just stare speechlessly.

"Plus, I think it will be great for your teamwork. If Reggie's heavenly cooking skills aren't enough to convince you, that is."

_Way to chime in, Joe.  
_  
"I… uh…" Dawn shot Paul a hesitant look and either totally misread his look of horror as excitement, or just lived in the illusion that he wouldn't kill her if her answer was what he started to seriously panic it would be; he honestly didn't know.

He just knew that he'd need to dig a deep, deep hole in his backyard, so that it's be able to fit all of them – Dawn, Reggie and fucking Joe Farrell. And probably himself as well, after he decided he wouldn't be able to carry the weight of this embarrassment.

Because when he saw her hesitation take a back seat and make way for a stupidly wide smile, he already knew her answer, even though she hadn't given it yet.

The regret of not having strangled his brother with the '_Mama-Bear_' apron had never been greater.


	6. Strangers in Every Dimension

_**Chapter 6 - Strangers in Every Dimension**_

He was speechless.

There she was, standing on the porch with her hands humbly folded in front of her, her face clean of makeup, her hair natural and slightly curly at the ends, as if she had let it air-dry, and her clothes girly and floral in a style that he'd never seen on her before, but it was still one that strangely suited her.

And then there was her smile, timid and polite as she bowed her head down to him and Reggie in a form of greeting, and her eyes that looked up at him with a sincerity he couldn't contradict and it was suddenly all too much for him to take in; so much that his ability to talk was suddenly taken away from him, but it was all good because talking wasn't his thing anyway.

Thankfully, it was Reggie's.

"Dawn! We're so glad that you were able to make it! Come on in, it's chilly!"

She smiled her shy smile again and Paul finally had the presence of mind to step back in order to let her in through the doorway.

"Well, hello there. Paul, I wouldn't have expected you to associate with such a beautiful young lady. A job well done, my boy." Paul rolled his eyes as his uncle Cyrus clapped him on the back and laughed merrily, then turned to Dawn and extended his hand with a good-natured smile. "I am delighted to meet you."

She shook his hand and smiled politely. "So am I, Mr. Shinji."

Paul felt his blood freeze. His uncle seemed confused at first and then laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. Dawn seemed to pick up on the change of atmosphere and hurried to fix her ignorant remark. "Oh… I, um…"

Reggie cleared his throat loudly. "The living room's the first door on the right. Paul, go introduce Dawn, everyone's been eager to meet her."

Paul tried not to look at her as he passed by her and led her down the hallway, but once they stopped in front of the living room's door, he somehow found himself lost in expressive blue eyes, which stared at him intently, offering something different from the usual pity and too-bad so-sad looks everyone gave him – an apology.

"It's alright." He muttered, unsure if she had heard him, but reluctant to repeat, and pressed the door handle, eager to leave Dawn in the havoc of attention, which his relatives were bound to shower her with, and get away from her inquisitive gaze.

As he'd expected, they were instantly crowded by his many cousins and grandmas, vulturous in their desire of intel on the 'fresh meat' in the house. He made a brief introduction, then excused himself to the kitchen, blissfully unbothered by over-obsessive aunts who insisted on remarking how much he'd grown since the previous month.

"Ah, Paul!" His mother smiled at him as he sat on a chair behind the kitchen counter. Her cheeks had color in them as she took a batch of freshly-baked cookies out of the oven. He thought to himself that the healthy rosy hue was something he could get used to seeing in her. Color meant life, and right now his mother seemed like she was slowly, but surely, coming back from the dead.

He reached for a cookie, but she slapped his hand away. "Not yet, impatient sir. They have to cool down a bit before consummation."

Paul rolled his eyes, but found himself glad at the liveliness his mother was displaying, even if it was via the annoying playful banter all the members of his family irritatingly possessed.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be waiting for our special guest?"

Paul rolled his eyes at the word 'special'. There wasn't anything _special _about her. "She's already here."

His mother dropped the oven mitts in her hand. "She is? Oh, then I must meet her at once! Come on then, lead me to her!"

Paul rolled his eyes again, but quietly mused that if Dawn's mere presence in his house brought such excitement to his mother, he'd somehow manage to bear the terror it brought to him._**  
**_

* * *

Dawn didn't know what she had been expecting, but that wasn't it.

The scene she had walked in on was nothing more than what a normal family reunion would look like. Not that she particularly specialized in that area, but she imagined that's what such get-togethers were like.

And yet, in her mind it somehow didn't make sense that this was the kind of mundane stuff that took place in the household Paul Shinji occupied. It was too domestic, too homey, _too_ ordinary in a wonderful kind of way, too much for her to believe that it not only was real, but that it was something _the_ Paul formed part of.

And even though she had just arrived at the noisy house, full of grandmas and grandpas, who were either half-asleep or commenting on the bad economics, and kids laughing loudly and running around, even though she had barely had a glimpse of the whirlwind of familiarity and messiness inside, she was already feeling more jealousy than she had her entire life.

She smiled and shook hands with a myriad of cousins, whilst struggling to remember their names and wondering where Paul had disappeared to. She hoped she hadn't somehow offended him when she had ignorantly presumed the kind man in the hallway was his father, when clearly that wasn't the case. She didn't have a way of knowing, but she still felt bad about her slippery tongue and quick presumptions.

Dawn smiled distractedly at an overly demanding girl from the batch of cousins, who had presented herself as Marlene or Eileen or something, while her gaze was searching the room for the familiar shade of purple which at that point she had idolized as her salvation. Finally, she caught sight of Paul enter the room with a woman by his side, who looked remarkably like him and was probably his mother. She wouldn't take any chances this time though; she'd wait until she knew for certain her relation to Paul before saying anything stupid and making things awkward again.

"Hello! You must be Dawn!" The woman greeted with a warm smile. In her tired face Dawn recognized the signs of many sleepless nights and exhaustion, but she saw untutored kindness as well and couldn't help but wonder what had made for such diverse traits among the members of the family. "Violet, Paul's mother. I can't tell you how happy I was to hear that he's bringing a friend over to our little gathering! He usually just shies away to his room, but this… This is a completely new thing for him! Bringing someone over, that is."

"Not by _my_ choice." Paul muttered and Dawn had to stifle her laugh. Reggie materialized behind him and, to his protest, ruffled his hair with a jubilant smile. "Cheer up, little bro. Everyone, dinner's ready!"

Dawn giggled as two twin boys ran by her with victorious yells and disappeared around the corner, undoubtedly in a rush to get to the dining room. She was vaguely reminded of May, who was never one to skip a meal herself.

"So, Dawn," Reggie started conversationally after they had all seated themselves around the dining table, "Do you have any hobbies?"

She put her fork down, looking up with a contemplative expression. "Well… I guess, if reading counts as one."

Violet beamed at her. "Oh! So, you're a reader! What kind of books do you enjoy?"

"Classics, mostly. I don't know, I guess I don't really have a favorite genre."

The elder woman nodded with a smile. "I see." She turned towards Paul. "What about you, Paul? What's your favorite book?"

"I don't have a favorite." The boy grumbled and scooped up some mashed potatoes, looking as disinterested in the topic as could be.

"Come on now, my boy, I know you enjoy reading very much. In fact, as a little boy, we couldn't get you to go out! You were always holed up in your father's library, nose stuck in a different book each day."

Dawn saw Paul tense and examined him curiously. His nostrils straight-out _flared_ when Reggie started talking.

"Yes, reading was a very dear hobby of Paul's. Of course, hadn't it been for his interest in books, he would have never taken up-"

"Say, Reggie, did you _drown_ this cake in frosting?" Paul abruptly spoke up, glaring at his brother heatedly. "I'm sure no one here would appreciate you conditioning them with diabetes."

Dawn watched in puzzlement as Reggie fearlessly met his brother's glare with a devious smile. "I'm sorry, dear brother. I guess I got too carried away, trying to sweeten up your attitude. God knows _that_'s a fool's errand." He tsk-ed. "It's a shame, really. If only your outlook on things was a _little_ more positive, then you'd, without a doubt, progress very much in your w-"

"Shut up." Paul gritted out.

Dawn looked at him with curiosity she simply couldn't sustain any longer. "You'd progress in what, Paul? What is it that you enjoy doing?"

The whole table was silent, heavy with the anticipation of his answer. He glared at Reggie, then turned to Dawn with expressionless steely eyes. "Working out."

The chatter resumed and somewhat drowned out Reggie's outburst of laughter. "Good save, little bro." With a final chuckle and shake of his head, he returned his attention to the plate in front of him, leaving Dawn to stare between him and Paul in bewilderment. No one pushed the topic any further, so she decided she wasn't in any place to do so either, and resignedly continued with her dinner, wondering what interest of his Paul was so intent on keeping a secret.

* * *

_Who the hell are you_,

Paul inquired in his head, his gaze insistently pinned on the girl across the dining table.

Well, maybe it was a girl. Then again, maybe not. He had no idea. She could very well be a hallucination for all he knew. And it would make a hell of a lot more sense than what everybody else thought her to be – a normal girl. He knew better.

This question, which had been torturing him actively since she had appeared at his door that late afternoon all dressed up and smiling, and subconsciously since the very moment he'd met her, was a damn hard one, because it seemed to have no answer. Rather, it had many answers, each contradicting the others with its own absurdity, each revealing a new dimension to the enigma that was Dawn Berlitz and each having Paul wondering how a human could possibly have so many different sides to them.

He observed her with narrowed eyes, full of suspicion and distrust, as she thanked his mother for the lovely dinner and asked what condiments she had used to spice up the homemade goes-with-everything sauce. He didn't move his eyes away from her as she nodded eagerly to the offer to be shown the secret recipes of the Shinji household and expressed her gratitude again with a bow of her head. His focused gaze didn't waver when she noticed he was staring at her and smiled at him shyly, while a lovely shade of pink spread across her cheeks and made her look even more surreal.

She was so different than everything she had looked and acted like before that he could barely believe it. He _didn't_ believe it. If someone was asked to describe her with only a few words, by just looking at her at that very moment, right there at the dining room in the Shinji house, their answer and probably the perfect description would be "the girl next door".

Paul didn't buy it.

He didn't know her even a little bit, yet he had seen enough of her to be able to say with absolute certainty that the display before his eyes wasn't real. Wasn't _Dawn._

Then again, how could he know? This could very well be Dawn and he wouldn't have a way of knowing so, because he had barely even seen a fraction of her mind-boggling entity and it was standing on a purely superficial ground. First impression. False smiles. Sincere, but quickly concealed anger.

It was all so damn confusing and it made him way more frustrated than what he deemed was acceptable.

_Why am I getting so worked up over this?_

Upon this self-reflection he came to a realization, the concept of which terrified him to bits:

He wanted to figure this strange girl out.

* * *

If upon her arrival at the Shinji family reunion she had felt slightly uncomfortable and out of place, by the end of it, it was safe to say that she felt like a complete intruder.

She didn't know these people. She hadn't _asked_ to make their acquaintance and probably neither had they, yet there they were, each and every one of them merrily accepting her into their intimate get-together without paying the matter a second thought.

She shouldn't feel as bothered as she was, but she couldn't help it. She didn't belong there. All these people were warm and welcoming, but she wasn't a part of this domestic bliss they reveled in. They seemed delighted to meet her and even excited at the prospect of seeing her again, but beyond that joy that she sincerely, _genuinely_ shared, was a happiness that she could never obtain. Far away. Unreachable.

She was used to cold-shoulders and empty presence behind a closed door, not this amiability and attention that she knew wasn't hers to indulge in, but couldn't help doing so anyway, in a pitiful attempt to fill at least a fraction of the hole that dismissive glances had dug in her for years.

And so, Dawn stared blankly at Paul's mother as she gently draped a blanket over the little kids, who had given in to the exhaustion on the sofa, and thought to herself:

_What the hell am I doing here?_

She stood up abruptly. _I can't stay here any longer._ "I… I have to go."

Violet looked up at her in surprise, and so did Paul and Reggie, who were silently playing chess on the coffee table near the armchair she had been occupying.

"Oh, no! I hope we didn't mistreat you in some way?"

"No, indeed, ma'am. You were very kind and generous hosts and I am happy to have been your guest. I'm afraid, however, that it has gotten late and my mother would want me already home at this hour." She bowed down and her eyes involuntarily met Paul's dark ones, which read nothing but distrust and suspicion.

"Oh, I see. Well, yes, of course, a lady of your age shouldn't wander alone after dark, I completely share your mother's concern. I'm sorry to have kept you so long, please forgive my thoughtlessness. Oh, I know! Paul should drive you to ensure that you get home safely!"

Dawn smiled slightly and shook her hand. "I assure you that won't be necessary. I still haven't abused my curfew and I have enough time to get home on foot."

Violet looked like she was about to object, but Dawn bowed her head again, finalizing her word. "Thank you for your kindness."

"You're welcome back anytime, Dawn." Reggie smiled at her brotherly. "Here, let me show you to the door."

She felt Paul staring at her and made brief eye contact before leaving the room. He didn't believe an ounce of the white lies she had told, she could see it, but at least he didn't say anything to contradict them and that was good enough for her. She didn't seek his trust and for as long as he didn't get in her way, she didn't see why she should explain herself to him.

"Goodbye. Thanks again, for everything." With a small wave she stepped out on the porch and into the evening, which was gracefully adorned by the bright red sky, courtesy of the setting sun.

"What a delightful girl!" Violet chirped as she joined Reggie in the doorway, gazing after her wistfully. "Don't you agree, Paul?"

"I couldn't agree more," he replied idly as he turned the corner and started going up the stairs, not even bothering to see her off.

* * *

It was late, but Paul couldn't sleep. A storm was raging outside, raindrops tapping on his window monotonously, creating a homely atmosphere he couldn't help but feel in peace with.

The setting for creative labor couldn't have been more to his liking.

He positioned himself in his desk and intertwined his fingers together as he stared at the laptop screen contemplatively.

It wasn't long before his thinking process was cut off, however, by a rather annoying tap on his window. He disregarded it as the rain's courtesy and tried to focus, but when he heard the noise again, he was certain it wasn't the rain that caused it.

With furrowed brows he stood up and came closer to the window, struggling to see anything in the darkness outside. He'd have to cut that annoying branch of the apple tree out front, he'd told his brother what a bother it was, and there, living proof of-

Stones.

Somebody was throwing stones at his window. Pebbles, to be more exact, and thankfully so, because Paul couldn't bear to come eye to eye to a person _that_ stupid.

Not that throwing pebbles at his window was any less idiotic.

"What the…" He opened his window and was instantly betrayed by his reflexes as he felt something hit him hard on the forehead. "Fucking hell?!"

"Oh good, you're awake!"

His blood boiled upon hearing that breezy voice, resonant enough for him to hear through the rain. "What the damn hell are you doing here?"

Even through the darkness he could see her grin. "Just taking a walk. Care to join me, Paul?"

"It's _raining_." He hissed, as if that was the only flaw in her absurd proposition. "Why the hell aren't you home?"

"You use a lot of curse words, have you noticed?"

"Only when the situation calls for them. What do you think you're fucking doing?"

"Oh, come on, now. It's barely even _drizzling_." Paul highly doubted that, seeing clearly enough her drenched navy hair, heavy from the rain. "I am just trying to say thank you."

"By conditioning yourself with hypothermia?! Do you have some sort of strange obsession with being out during storms, or is it all intended just to piss me off?"

Dawn scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Why are you here?"

"I just told you. To thank you." He could hear the eye-roll in her voice. "You said you like working out, right? So I am here, ready and set to be your jogging partner for the night."

Paul couldn't even begin to comprehend the twisted, if not non-existent, logic in what he'd just heard. "Crazy girl," was the only response he was able to offer.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're afraid to get a little muddy. Besides, what better time than a rainy night to get a workout in?"

"Dawn. Why aren't you at home?"

She was silent for a few minutes and Paul would have guessed she'd left if he didn't still sense her presence in his backyard. "Well, I guess you're not going to be my jogging partner," she grumbled after a while. "Okay then. Good night."

He sighed as he heard her retreating footsteps, knowing that he'd regret his decision later. "Fine," Hell, he regretted it already. "Give me a minute."

He heard her laugh and detain herself as he scooped up a pair of comfortable sneakers and a hoodie. Damn that girl. She was leading him to a very painful downfall, he just knew it.

But he knew better than to leave her to her own crazy ideas, which had more than once gotten her into trouble. It was better to sacrifice one night of sleep, than to read her death announcement in the morning paper.

She was waiting for him on the porch, running her fingers through her damp hair and trying to disentangle it in what seemed to be a fruitless effort. She looked up at him as he closed the front door behind him and smiled, flipping the troublesome blue mane out of her face. "Hey."

His only response was a glare as he put on the hood of his sweatshirt and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Where to," he grumbled dejectedly.

Dawn rolled her eyes at him. "Be as cross as you like, but without me, you would be having no such adventures."

_What a dream that would be._

"There's a little forest near a road two streets down from here. It's nice, and it has this big fallen tree, covered in ivy-"

"We're not going to a forest."

"What? Why not?"

He shot her a skeptic look. "Not even you are _that_ stupid as to go in the woods at this hour and at this weather."

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him. "Where then?"

"On the well-lit sidewalk. _This_ street."

She puffed out one cheek indignantly, then huffed and held her nose high up in the air. "Fine then." She started running without waiting for him, but it wasn't difficult to catch up, given his significant superiority in height and leg length.

He observed her while they ran. She was taking short, shallow breaths through her mouth and that was the wrong way to run, especially in this temperature, but she didn't seem to care. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes determined, fixed on a point straight ahead, with focus that indicated she wasn't going to stop anytime soon, despite the exhaustion painted across her face.

Judging by her inexpert and inconsistent strides, he would say that she was either a novice or didn't jog that often. Which begged the question, what had made for this late-night run, in the worst of meteorological conditions at that?

Her gaze was wild and there was something other than determination driving her, but Paul couldn't quite place it. She was almost like prey, desperate to escape from her predator.

And Paul saw that this girl was not running just to run. She was running _from_ something. And maybe, trying to find something to run _towards_.

Paul wondered if she had found it. He wondered if she ever would.

And he wondered _why_ he wondered.

What was it that made her so inexplicably _significant_ to him, even though he knew next to nothing about her?

What was it that made him go jogging with her in the middle of the night in this downpour, which was much more than just a _drizzle_?

He didn't know. He didn't know if he'd ever find out. But in the meantime, he could do what she did.

Just run.


	7. Friendships and Hardships

_**Thank you all for the support, you're amazing! I apologize in advance for the excessive amount of dialogue in this chapter, I hope it won't be much of a bother.**_

_**I don't own Pokémon.**_

_**Chapter 7 - Friendships and Hardships**_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Can I… ask you something?_

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
__Sure, Sunshine. Ask away._

_escaping my thoughts__  
What do you think makes people who they are?_

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
I'm… not sure how to answer that. Could you elaborate?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
What I mean is… What could be the reasons behind a person acting a certain way? And are there necessarily reasons for one's behavior or are they just… the way they are?_

_silence is my jam but I like rock too  
__Huh. You ask quite the questions, Sunshine._

_Well, I guess that the things a person has gone through in his life could be the main factor that has formed them as characters and could very well be the reasons why they behave one way or the other. I believe some traits, you are simply born with, but they are nothing more than mere predispositions at the time of birth._

_It is what you grow up to be that determines who you are and in most cases, the environment in which you are brought up plays a key role in who you become as a person. If one has, let's say, experienced some sort of trauma, or was raised in a dysfunctional family, it is more than likely that this will take its toll on him and shape him into the person he becomes as an adult._

_escaping my thoughts__  
What you're saying actually makes sense. Thank you. I needed an impartial party's opinion._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
You're welcome. May I ask why you're torturing yourself with such questions? Are you going through some sort of existential reckoning? Or are you trying to figure someone out?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Look, I appreciate your help on this, but your prying is a little too much. Mind if I keep my business to myself?_

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Wow, touchy. And here I thought we were actually starting to form a friendship._

_escaping my thoughts__  
I can assure you we are forming nothing of the sort._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too  
__**Fine**__, be a prick. But let me ask you this. Why would you turn to me with your weird wonderings? Is it perhaps because you don't have anyone to confide in in your real life?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Mind your own business. If I dare remind you, you were the first one to bother me with your bizarre questions._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Oh, I am well aware. And I am open about my reasons for messaging you – it is simply because I don't have anyone else to talk to. Believe it or not, this pathetic form of communication is pretty much the only thing of the sort I have going on._

_And deny it as much as you want, but it's clear as day that it's the same for you. Otherwise you wouldn't ask for advice from an Internet 'friend'. Plus, you seem like you have lots on your mind, so why not share?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Well, you have my sincerest condolences regarding your lonely situation, but don't think I'll bare my soul to you._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
I don't think or want anything of the sort. I am merely offering you a chance to talk to somebody._

_escaping my thoughts__  
I don't even know you._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too  
__Yes, but consider this: __**you don't even know me**__. The same goes for me. I don't know your name or gender, or pretty much anything about you (aside from the fact that you're an asshole, this much is plain to see). I couldn't go around spilling your secrets if I wanted to. And I speak for myself when I say how much it sucks not having anyone to talk to._

_escaping my thoughts__  
Let me get this straight. You want us to be each other's emotional trashcans?_

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Nice phrasing. Not emotional trashcans, just… Listen, I have exhausted every single friendship I have come close to in my life and this… This Internet communication just seems a lot less… scary and demanding. There are no expectations or attachment, but I think we could use it to our benefit. What do you say?_

_escaping my thoughts  
__Alright._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Great! Now tell me, Sunshine, what's torturing you?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Nothing's __**torturing me**__. I'm just… confused, that's all. There's this person I just can't figure out. And it's all the more frustrating, because I don't __**want**__ to want to figure them out._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Do you have any idea as to why you want that?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
No. This person isn't anything to me._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Really? Seems like it's quite the opposite._

_escaping my thoughts__  
I can say with absolute certainty that it's not. I think it's just this whole 'mystery' factor that's making me frustrated and thus making me want to figure the puzzle out. Just to get rid of the frustration._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Not that I'm calling your reasoning bullshit, but it is. It is bullshit. You're clearly in some sort of denial._

_escaping my thoughts__  
Oh, really? Pray tell me how you came to that conclusion._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
Look, I'm not acquainted with the exact situation you're finding yourself so perplexed in, but I think that you wanting to get to know this person means that he/she holds a certain amount of significance to you._

_escaping my thoughts__  
I never said I wanted to get to know this person. I said I wanted to figure them out._

_silence is my jam but I like rock too__  
If really you want to believe there's a difference._

* * *

"Yes, Reggie?" Paul snapped into the phone.

"As pleasant to hear you as ever, dear brother."

Paul gritted his teeth. The nerve of his brother knew no limits. "Say what you need to say. I'm in a hurry."

"You haven't left for school yet, have you?"

"I would have, if it weren't for you," he growled as he threw his bag on the passenger seat of his worn-out Jeep. "Spit it out already. I'm late."

"Could you just go check on mom? I called her and she didn't answer."

"She was probably just in the bathroom, moron." Paul rolled his eyes, but headed back towards the house nevertheless. He didn't take any chances when it came to his mother and if Reggie had been as worried as to call him, then he had to check.

"But you'll go check on her?"

"That's what I'm doing, idiot," he replied as he tried to balance the phone between his ear and shoulder in order to get his key from his pocket.

"Call me afterwards, alright?"

"Hn," Paul grunted affirmatively and hung up. He checked his watch and sighed. He was running late anyway. A few more minutes wouldn't make any difference.

He quickly went up the stairs and knocked on the door to his mother's bedroom.

No one answered, but that wasn't a cause for worry. His mother was, like him, an incredibly heavy sleeper. "Mom?" he inquired softly as he pressed the handle and let himself inside.

She was indeed sleeping, but Paul's astute eyes quickly caught on to the faint tear marks on her face. His heart tightened as he saw the incriminating sign of what no child wished to see in his mother. The grief, the sorrow, the sadness, which could have only been caused by one thing.

And there, trapped in her firm grasp, as she slept with agony painted across her face, lay the proof of his suspicion. It was an old photo, worn out and wrinkled from the many times it had been desperately latched onto in an attempt to bring the long lost reality in it back to existence, the lost reality that his mother still couldn't let go of.

"He's gone, mom," he whispered as he caressed her cheek and wiped off the small tear in the corner of her closed eye. There was no sadness. He had accepted the cold hard truth and it was high time his mother did so too. "He's gone," he repeated softly as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

Paul draped a blanket over his mother's small form and turned to leave, only stopping at the door to glare at the picture that was still in her tight embrace.

_You're gone and you still can't let her be, can you?_

He shook his head and closed the door quietly. It wouldn't do to wake up the old anger, residing deep inside of him still, bottling up and waiting to be unleashed. Now wasn't the time. Not when his mother was still in such a fragile state, happy and smiling one day, and knee deep in her depression the next.

He silenced the monster inside of him that burned him alive with its demand to be released. He hoped it would one day just disappear on its own, dissipate into nothingness and let him move on with his life, but he knew he was the one not letting it do so. Because despite how well things might be going, there imminently came a time when the rage inside of him got fueled by the reminder of what once was, of what would never again be.

It would seem that he still had some letting go to do.

"Yes, Reggie, she's alright."

"Ah, good. Now, since you're still there, can you check on the cake dough in the fridge? I need it to be big and puffy."

Thankfully, there was still Reggie to keep him sane with his nonsense.

"Paul, go see if it's big and puffy."

"Paul? You still there?"

* * *

Paul was late, but she didn't question him as she got in the passenger seat of his Jeep and closed the door.

"I thought you'd have left for school already."

"Yet you still came to pick me up." She smiled at him cheekily. "Nah, I don't care much for History anyway."

"Hn," he grunted as he pulled out of the driveway in front of her house. "Good."

"Everything alright?" She inquired as she studied his face.

"Yes."

"But you have a frown on."

"Is that so unusual?"

"Hm, good point." She fastened her seatbelt and flung her backpack to the back seat. "You know what we should do? Go to a flea market."

"Flea market?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"No, silly. We have school. But some day."

Dawn heard him sigh almost resignedly. "Dawn…"

"What? I've always wanted to visit one."

"No, it's not about the flea market. You just… sound so convinced that there's a future time when the two of us are going to hang out. You know._ Frequently_."

She scrunched her eyebrows. "Well…" Hesitation and uncertainty filled her as she swallowed nervously. "We are… friends, aren't we?"

Paul turned away from the road to look at her for what seemed like the longest second, before answering with a single word that wasn't even a word.

"Hn."

She couldn't help the grin that overcame her face.

That word that wasn't a word might just become her favorite thing to hear.

_Baby steps, Dawn. Don't scare this one away._

She checked her watch just to have something to do. They were ten minutes late for the first class of the day, but she didn't care that much. Their History teacher didn't take monitoring attendance so seriously anyway.

Dawn leaned her arm on the window and flexed her fingers to feel the wind twirl between them. A car in the oncoming lane caught her eye and she smiled as she recognized the model as the one that served as James Bond's faithful companion. It was refreshing to see a retro beauty amongst the grayness of all the other cars that could be from different brands, but looked all the same to her anyway.

"Dawn."

"Yeah?" She asked distractedly, eyes still on the car which was now just up ahead.

"You're smiling like a lunatic at a car that's older than the Internet."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not old. It's _classic_."

"It's from 1964. I call that old."

"So? Doesn't mean it's any less good than the newest models. It's better, actually."

He raised his eyebrows and quirked a little smirk. "Really? How's that?"

She shrugged simply. "It has character."

He almost laughed. "Character?"

Dawn looked at him seriously. "Yes. Way more than your Jeep, actually. Or you, for that matter."

"It's a machine, Dawn."

"It's a _beautiful_ machine."

"A beautiful machine that has character?"

"Exactly. Indefinitely more iconic than a van, let's say."

"This conversation is idiotic."

"Name a van that's more iconic than this DB5."

"What? Nothing to say, pretty boy?"

"The… The Mystery Machine."

Dawn tried to stifle her laugh while _The_ Paul sat next to her, flushed with embarrassment.

"It's from a _cartoon_. To make your point about old stuff even more invalid, I'll just add that Scooby Doo first aired in the sixties."

"And that makes it classic, I suppose?"

"Shut up. Are you anti anything cool, or are you just anti me?"

"Depends. What other old and rusty junk do you like?"

"Screw you, you're junk. And if you must know, I like old black and white movies."

"Hn. You're weird."

"What? You have something against those too?"

"No, but they're not particularly interesting."

Dawn sighed and looked out the window resignedly. "You only get this chatty when you insult something I like, have you noticed?"

"Insult?"

"Calling something '_not interesting'_ is the worst possible label you can put on it."

"You're batshit crazy, you know that?"

"Say what you will. I will not argue with a colorless person like you."

"Hn," he grunted as he finally found an empty parking space in front of the school. "You know what else is colorless? Black and white movies."

* * *

She'd asked him if they were friends and he'd said yes.

There was a change then. It was subtle at first. They sat on one desk when they had classes together and had lunch together under a cherry tree on campus. On even dates he picked her up from her house with his Jeep and on odd dates they met halfway and walked the rest of the distance to the school together, just because. On occasion, he'd stand on lookout while she raided the storage room for more books to bring home, read and return, because going to the library would be too mainstream and she insisted that these books were older and smelled better, whatever that meant.

Against his will, he found himself learning new things about her, like the fact that she never put ice in her drink and frequently got dizzy because of low blood pressure, or that she took her coffee with a buttload of sugar, but was always sleepy during first period. Such minor details about her didn't satisfy his growing curiosity, but he knew better than to ask.

They talked, but not about anything heavy, and he begrudgingly realized that her snarky wit and sharp tongue made for conversations that weren't boring to him. She managed to keep his interest without getting him out of his comfort zone, which he appreciated, but that didn't change the fact that he still knew next to nothing about her.

She didn't pry in his business and he didn't ask about her family situation. It was a sort of an unspoken rule: they were, so to say, _friends _now, and crossing any personal boundaries was taboo. Neither of them stepped over the line.

Paul thought that's what made them sort of friends in the first place.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what lurked behind the gates of this fortress he wasn't granted access to. However, he didn't dare to try to enter. Their current arrangement suited him fine. They were friends on a somewhat shallow level, never prying into one another's lives too deeply and never expecting anything more from one another than help with classwork and someone to walk to school with.

He knew to be on his guard though. He knew better than to become attached to a girl like Dawn, the kind of girl who threatened to become the center of his universe if he wasn't careful. He had to hold her at bay lest she became any more relevant to him than she already had.

He understood the theory of it and he had to make sure that the execution wouldn't elude him either.

Paul usually was far too consumed in his own shitstorm of a life to devote any time or thoughts to anyone else, but Dawn was an anomaly. An exception to his every rule and maybe that was what was so fascinating (and infuriating) about her.

He was thankful for the distraction, but her growing significance was bad news. She seemed to command his attention and respect without even knowing it, without even _trying_ and he found it _maddening_.

He didn't show it, of course, because madness wasn't his forte. Rationality, on the other hand, was, but it always got thrown out the window when Dawn was added to the equation.

As a writer, however, he found her unintentional effect on him more than fascinating. He was careful not to get too carried away when regarding his inspiration, but couldn't help examining the sides of Dawn that had been revealed to him and wondering about the ones that hadn't. All out of professional curiosity, of course.

"You know, you really should be paying attention in class," he stroke up a conversation, just to prevent his thoughts from progressing any further.

Dawn flipped a page of her book imperturbably. "So should you, yet you're talking to me."

He rolled his eyes, but knew that History of Medieval Europe wasn't getting any more entrancing. He was distracted today and didn't know what to blame it on, so, demanding asshole that he was, he couldn't leave Dawn to indulge in her reading in peace. "What are you so faithfully reading anyway? You're always reading."

"Yeah, what's it to you?" She muttered distractedly, not moving her gaze from her book.

"Nothing," he squared his jaw and tried not to show how much the simple question affected him. "It's nothing to me."

Wrong distraction to go for.

_For the love of God, Shinji, pay attention in class. And get your shit together._

* * *

"It's a stupid movie," Paul cut her appraisal of The Breakfast Club short as they walked across the streets in direction to her house and once again butted heads on the movie front.

"Oh, you've actually seen that one? _Shocker_," she replied bitingly.

"Yes, I have. And it's stupid."

"Oh, come on!" she argued. "It's a universally-accepted excellent movie. You just want to have something to not like so you seem like the smartest guy around."

"It's a shitty 80's movie that's supposed to be some allegory to teenage life."

"It _is_ an allegory to teenage life!" Dawn snapped and started walking backwards to yell at him more conveniently. "It's about realizing that appearances can be deceiving."

"Appearances _are not_ deceiving," Paul sneered. "I can take one look at anybody and know everything I need to know about them."

"Oh really?" Her eyes lighted up with a challenge as she glared at him. "Then what can you figure about _me_?"

"That you're a fucking mess," he replied flatly.

Dawn couldn't bring herself to be offended by that blunt statement and just laughed. They reached her house and she was just about to invite him in and make him watch and reevaluate the movie in question, when she saw that there was someone sitting on the doorstep.

"Marina?" she asked incredulously as she recognized her cousin. "What are you doing here?"

Marina took a long drag of the cigarette between her fingers and shrugged, as if she wasn't exactly sure herself. "Making bad decisions, I suppose."

Dawn gave Paul a look and he seemed to understand that it was something she had to deal with, because he just nodded and started walking away. She turned towards her cousin once again. "Mind if I join you?"

Marina shrugged again, but moved over so that Dawn could sit on the curbstone next to her. "I came over to your house after all."

"You know you're always invited, right?"

Marina nodded somewhat absentmindedly, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. "Yeah, I know."

"So what's going on?"

"Nothing much. Except for me being a stubborn asshole and an irresponsible mother, but that isn't so surprising." She stubbed her cigarette and reached for another. "You want one?"

"No, thanks. Since when do you smoke, anyway?"

"Oh, you know. Just occasionally."

"And what's the occasion today?"

"Why, the jolly grandparents came for an unexpected visit, of course. And being the forever hospitable host that I am, I just grabbed my coat and walked right past them. Got a pack of cigarettes on the way and offered one to my under-age cousin, like the responsible adult that I am."

Dawn cracked a smile. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

"You don't understand, Blue. I can't stand those people. I can't even stand being in the same room as them, with their judgmental sneers in my face." She shook her head. "It's better if I avoid confrontation. A few minutes in their company are enough to piss me off and I don't want to blow up in front of the kids."

She looked at Dawn and smiled humorlessly. "So I came here to be a moody prick in front of you."

Dawn frowned. "And you just left Mickey and Alex there?"

Marina waved her hand dismissively. "I bet they didn't even notice. After all, their favorite people are there to look after them. And what's more," she clasped her hands in mock excitement, "they brought presents to bribe them with!"

"And Jimmy didn't try to stop you?"

"Jimmy wasn't there. He's working." She took another drag of her cigarette. "He took a second job, you know. Got a whole family to feed."

"Marina…"

"And it's not like I'm helping or anything. I do _nothing_." She stubbed out that cigarette too and threw it on the lawn somewhat angrily.

"That's not true. You look after the kids. You cook and take care of the house, you-"

"I do _nothing_, Dawn. Look at me. Look at what I'm doing. I left my kids at home, because Jimmy's parents, whom I can't stand, decided to pop by. I picked up my old smoking habit without a second thought. I'm sitting here and being angry with everything and I'm probably going to stay here until Jimmy comes find me, and then I'll probably be angry with him and maybe shout at him a little too, even though he'll be exhausted from his eight-hour shift. And I probably won't even care." Marina shrugged and threw her hands above her head, while a few tears spilled from her eyes. "Because that's how horrible a person I am."

Dawn shook her head. "No. You're not," she said firmly and grabbed Marina's arm to make her look at her. "So you can't stand being around your in-laws, so what? I'm sure Mickey and Alex are just fine in their hands and I know you would never actually leave them alone. Jimmy loves you, you know that, so of course he's going to come look for you, because no matter how exhausted he may be, you will always come first. And he will take your tantrum and your drama and then take you home and treat you right, even though you'll probably be unreasonably mad at him, but he'll kiss you and tell you he loves you anyway."

Marina looked at Dawn, her light blue eyes heavy with sadness and sorrow, and she cried harder and all Dawn could do was put her arms around her and let her do so.

"I…" she breathed out between sobs, "I just feel so worthless, Blue. I don't know what to do."

Dawn just stroked her back soothingly. She didn't know how to help. She didn't know if she even could.

"I do nothing. I _have_ nothing. This house, where we live – it was given to us, by _them._ It's not really mine. It's not really my home. I don't have a home. Jimmy bought a new apartment, but that's not really mine either. I earn nothing to repay him, or help him. And he works so hard. All I do is sit around all day and expect everyone around me to entertain me and make me happy."

"And are you?" Dawn asked quietly. "Happy?"

Marina shook her head and sobbed so violently that her breathing became ragged and uneven. "I _could_ work, Dawn. I have a degree, I could find a job. I _could_. But, selfish as it may sound, I… I don't want to do something that's not my passion. And I don't know _what_ my passion is." She buried her face in her hands. "So I do nothing. And let Jimmy take on the burden. And he doesn't even question it. He doesn't tell me how awful I am."

"You're not awful, Marina. You want to find something you enjoy, and Jimmy respects that. He doesn't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself." Dawn had no idea if she was getting anywhere with her words, but like hell was she going to just stand there and say nothing while her cousin delved in self-loathing.

"How can I? I don't find joy in anything I do. I make the people around me miserable as well. How can I look at myself in the mirror and not be ashamed?"

"Marina. Look at me," Dawn said firmly. "You have _everything_. You have a man who loves and cherishes you and gives you the freedom to find your own thing and do it at your own pace. You have two beautiful children who will one day grow up and make you proud. You have a roof over your head and it is _yours_, despite what you might think. You may have a bad habit, but you're a good person. The best person I know. And you may not have direction right now, but you have to believe it's all going to come together. You have to have faith, because if you don't have that…" She wiped a tear off her cousin's face. "… I cannot help you. Only you can help yourself."

Marina wiped the last of her tears and sighed tiredly. "How can I help myself, Blue? I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

Dawn smiled. "And that's okay." She stood up and dusted her pants off. "Come on. We're watching Casablanca tonight."

Marina smiled slightly and stood up as well. "Thank you, Blue. Just promise me you won't tell Aunt Johanna that I offered you a cigarette, okay?"

Dawn gave a dry laugh. "Don't worry. She wouldn't care anyway."


	8. Madness Beyond Measure

_**Chapter 8 - Madness Beyond Measure**_

Dawn felt better these days.

Not only in her own skin, but, surprisingly, in school as well.

She realized she could actually enjoy some of her classes, and not only because of her new desk-buddy, but because, as she begrudgingly admitted, learning wasn't something all that boring after all. Of course, that only applied to a few of her classes, but it was nice to take an interest in something for a change.

She hadn't bothered to be a good student for a long time, because grades or knowledge in the field of Trigonometry or any other bullshit subject didn't matter to her. She put in just enough effort to pass and spent the most of her time reading novels, instead of focusing on her studies. Now that she decided to give school a chance, she noticed an improvement in her grades and was pleased to see that she could actually achieve something if she put her mind to it. It gave her a sense of control over her life and with that, came hope for the future as well.

The rise of her academic success came with an unexpected benefit, in the face of acknowledgement on her mother's part. It was small and only expressed in short exchanges in the rare moments when Dawn was having breakfast in the kitchen while Johanna headed out for work, but even insignificant remarks like "I got a call from your teacher" and "good job" were enough to put the girl in much higher spirits than usual.

Seven-year old Dawn had always strived to be on top of her class, only to get the attention of Mommy and Daddy, who at the time were too engulfed in their fights to give her the time of the day.

Seventeen-year old Dawn was happy to have finally eased the pain inside of her, where the neglected little girl was still crying.

Overall, school was good and home life was as good as it got, so she had no reasons to complain.

There was Paul, too. Probably the best part of her newly established dynamic, but that was something she'd never admit aloud.

He was quiet and sulky, snarky and brooding, even arrogant at times, but she couldn't help being grateful for their friendship nonetheless. She respected him and what's more, he made her feel safe.

It was impossible not to feel protected when he walked beside her, tall and lean but still muscular, dark eyes fearless and jaw set with confidence, and she alarmingly discovered she was quickly becoming addicted to it. The sweet security he unknowingly provided her with was something she couldn't get enough of, which automatically made him a hundred times more dangerous to her and she knew she had to be on her guard.

She wanted to get to know him better and as much as she enjoyed surrounding herself with the safety of his presence, he was the kind of boy she had to be careful around because he was the kind of boy she could one day end up loving.

Dawn wondered what was behind those eyes of his, which were too-dark and too haunted, but she didn't ask. She owed him that much. She knew he could see right through her and yet he didn't judge, he didn't pry and on top of that she knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

She didn't deserve a friend like him and knowing that, she forbade herself to think of him as anything more than that.

* * *

"See, I told you this would be fun!" Dawn exclaimed as they strode through the rows of old furniture at the local flea market. Because as much as Paul continuously refused it, she insisted he needed a little bit more '_spunk'_ in his life and she had apparently vowed to make that happen for him.

He even heard her call it Mission Paul Meets World, but in his eyes a more accurate title would be Doing-Aimless-Shit-To-The-Point-Where-Paul-Is-So-Annoyed-That-He-Writes-The-Farrell-Essay-For-Dawn-Who-Is-Too-Lazy-To-Do-So-Herself.

"You and I have a very different understanding of fun," he remarked as he trudged behind her with his hands in his pockets and his eyes filled with disinterest in the antiques around them he insisted on referring to as 'old junk'.

"Like you'd have something better to do," Dawn scoffed as she crouched down to take a better look at an old writing machine. She looked up at Paul to see him looking at the object with mild interest and smiled. "Well, well. Looks like you found something to enjoy after all."

He looked away. "Let's just get out of here already. If you're done gushing over junk, that is."

"And do what?"

"Go home and do something productive. I imagine that is a concept you're not very familiar with," he scoffed, but it sounded more like a scold.

"_Fine,_" she surrendered overdramatically. "But you'll drive me home. I don't feel like taking the bus."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Can we go now?"

"Yeah."

He sighed with relief as they got in his Jeep and took off. It looked like the day of aimless strolling around would be finally over for him.

"Huh. Weird," Dawn mumbled to herself and he turned towards her quizzically.

"What is?" He asked and she looked up at him with eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Marina. She isn't picking up the phone."

"So?" He focused his attention back on the road ahead.

"You're right, it's probably nothing," she said, as if to reassure herself, but by the frown she had on her face he could tell she was worried.

"You could text her," Paul suggested but he was not familiar enough with the situation to know if that was going to put her at ease.

"Yeah," she bit her lip in contemplation. "You know what, I'm sure nothing's wrong. I'm just worried over nothing."

She discarded her phone in her backpack, but quickly fished it out again when it went off not two minutes later. She took one look at the caller ID and her eyes went wide, before she hurriedly answered. "Hey, Jimmy."

Paul frowned at the unfamiliar name, but what got his attention more was the alarmed note which Dawn's voice suddenly acquired.

"Wait, I… Jimmy, hold on for one second." She turned towards Paul with naked fear in her eyes, her voice slightly shaking, but the demand in it firm as stone. "Paul, turn around. We're going to my cousin's house."

* * *

"Dawn, I hate to inconvenience you this way-"

"Nonsense, Jimmy. You're right not to take any chances."

"I get off work in a bit, so it won't be long before I'm home."

"Don't worry, we'll handle… whatever there is to handle." Dawn pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the road as Paul turned the Jeep around. "We'll be there in a few minutes. Now calm down and tell me what's happening."

"I hope that it's nothing, but I have to make sure. Marina hasn't answered any of my calls and normally I wouldn't be this worried, but it's just that… she hasn't really been herself these past few days. I'm afraid of what she might do."

"What do you mean?" Dawn's grip around the phone tightened.

"It's like she hasn't been with us at all. She hasn't slept, she hasn't eaten. All she does is stare fixatedly straight ahead. I haven't heard her say a word after this big fight we had yesterday and I don't think she's doing it just to spite me. There's… something else."

Dawn heard the man sigh over the phone.

"Look, Dawn… I realize I shouldn't have asked you this, because what you're walking in might be dangerous and you're just a child, but… I got a call from the kindergarten saying Marina picked up the kids on her own and it's usually always me who does that and… I really don't know what to think, I'm just really scared."

"I understand," Dawn furrowed her eyebrows as the weight in her chest got heavier. "But Jimmy… you can't possibly… you don't think that Marina would actually do something to harm the kids or herself, do you?"

"I don't know, Dawn, I pray and hope not, but I can't really be sure. Marina… I don't think she's in her right mind right now."

"Okay. Okay. Calm down. We're almost there, so don't worry. And… hurry. Just in case."

She hung up the phone and turned towards Paul. "What the hell is taking so long?"

"Don't lash out on me. We happened upon the rush hour."

"Damn it," Dawn leaned forwards and slammed her fist on the car horn. "MOVE IT PEOPLE, _THIS IS SERIOUS GODDAMMIT_!"

Paul winced at the volume of her voice. "Fuck, woman, the windows aren't even open- _what the hell are you doing?"  
_  
Dawn had already unfastened her seatbelt and opened the door on her side. "It's only a few blocks and I can't waste any time."

"Wait, Dawn-"

But she had already started running. The noise of the traffic around her melted off into the distance to make way for the mantras that started repeating in a limbo in her head like a broken record.

_It's okay. It's going to be alright. Nothing's happening. You're not too late. Everything's fine. She is safe. They are safe. It's okay._

Dawn pumped her legs and they hurt from running and she pumped them harder, hoping and praying to every god out there that she wasn't too late. That there wasn't anything to be too late for.

She could see the house now. A little yellow house, where a happy little family lived, one family that she _could_ save from shattering to pieces, like she had failed to save her own.

Just a little bit further. Almost. _Come on, Dawn, you've always been good at running._

She burst through the unlocked door, which almost flew off with the hinges at her doubled from madness strength.

"Marina!"

Dawn surged in the living room, her frenzied thoughts producing wild images of horrible possibilities, as she stopped to breathe and take in the scene before her.

"Dawn!" Her cousin exclaimed with surprise as she turned her head towards her with a smile. "You're just in time for our tea party!"

"Mama, we don't want a tea party! We want to play with the trucks!" Little Mickey piped up from around the pink plastic table and Alex, who was just a year older, nodded from beside him with authority.

"Now, now," Their mother waved a finger in front of their faces. "We know who those trucks are a gift from," she covered the side of her mouth and leaned in conspiratorially. "And we don't like those people!"

Dawn exhaled with relief as she crouched down and took the kids in her arms, then turning towards Marina and embracing her as well. "Thank God," she whispered and shut her eyes as a few tears spilled and wet her cousin's shirt.

They were okay. It was alright.

"Yes, yes, I'm happy to see you too, darling, but I have waited too long for this tea party to have you postpone it even a second longer."

Marina pushed Dawn away and turned towards an empty plastic teapot. "Now tell me, Dawn, what do you think of my tea party set? I've had it forever, but I've never had a chance to use it. You see, it was my mother's, your aunt, but she was never around to play with me. But you will play with me now, right?"

She turned towards her cousin, her sky blue eyes beaming, and that's when Dawn saw that it wasn't alright at all.

"Marina!"

Jimmy burst inside with a hesitant Paul on his heels, relief painted across his face as he saw everyone inside well and in one piece.

"Now you're doing this on purpose," Marina sounded annoyed as she glared at the newcomers. "I just want to enjoy my tea in peace, if you don't mind, Jimmy."

He approached her and put his hand on her shoulder lightly. "Hey, are you alright-"

Marina suddenly erupted in a scream as she violently jerked her arm away.

Dawn was pulled aside as Jimmy tried to restrain her suddenly wild cousin. Paul held onto her elbow as he observed the scene with wary eyes.

"LET ME GO!" Marina cried as she twisted and turned in Jimmy's arms, while the two little boys, too innocent to know what was happening, laughed and clapped at the show before them.

"We have to get them out of here," Dawn muttered and Paul nodded. He helped her round them up and lead them to their room, while Marina started laughing madly.

"That's a good idea, Dawn! It's a girl-party only, so you boys have to leave! You hear me, Jimmy?"

"I hear you and I'm not letting go of you."

"No, no, Jimmy. Only _us, girls_."

"Marina, please…" Dawn thought she heard Jimmy sob and couldn't help but look away.

"Paul," she whispered and gave him a desperate look. He looked right back at her and she couldn't read an emotion in his endless black eyes if she tried to.

"You want me to go, don't you?" He glanced over the couple on the living room floor. "I get it, this is family business, it's not my place to-"

"No!" Dawn caught him on the sleeve, as if to reassure that he wasn't going to leave. "No, please. You leaving is the last thing I want right now. I can't… handle this." She gagged in an attempt to push down an oncoming sob as she gestured to the scene behind her briefly.

She realized that it was too much to ask, that it was wrong to involve him in all this, but she needed him and even though she didn't say it out loud he seemed to understand that. The situation was bad, she knew, and she didn't know what to fucking do.

"Okay," he whispered back and she felt a huge weight come off her chest, as faint sense of security wrapped around her and restored some of her sanity.

"Dawn," Jimmy called and they turned towards him to see him no longer wrestling with Marina, but with his arms around her as she sat, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth slightly, face emotionless and eyes fixed on a point straight ahead. "Will you pass me my phone, please?"

She did so and he typed in a number with shaking fingers, almost succeeding to make the call before Marina snatched the phone from him wordlessly and threw it at the opposite wall.

Dawn stared at the shattered remains for a moment and then fished out her mobile. "Here, I'll do it."

"No, it has to be me," Jimmy said as he stood up and left the silent Marina in her position on the floor. "I'm the one who knows all of her details. Will you two please look after her while I make the call?"

Dawn nodded and Jimmy went out of the room with her phone in his hands. She sat down next to her cousin and examined her worriedly. "Marina?"

"I don't think she can hear you," Paul said as he leaned on the wall beside her, looking like a panther ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"You're probably right," Dawn sniffed and leaned her head on her knees. "She hasn't slept. Her brain must be going into overdrive." She paused and then mumbled, without turning her head, "Thank you. For staying."

"Hn."

"Help is on the way," Jimmy announced as he reappeared in the doorframe. "Thank you both."

Dawn looked up. "This is Paul, by the way. Paul, Jimmy."

The two shook hands, both too worn out to engage in further pleasantries. Dawn looked back at Marina sadly. "Is she going to be okay?"

Jimmy sat down and leaned his head on the wall behind him. "I don't know." He closed his eyes tiredly and she saw a few tears stream down his cheeks. "But she has to."

Dawn wiped her face with her sleeve and stood up. "I'm going to go check up on the kids."

"Auntie Dawn," Mickey chirped as she entered the room and sat next to him and Alex on the bed, "we don't have to drink tea, do we?"

She laughed briefly at his honest question, while he stared at her with grave seriousness. "No, you don't."

Alex rounded her on the other side. "And we don't have to eat veggies anymore?"

She smiled as she wrapped an arm around each of the little boys. "I'm not the one to decide that, I'm afraid. What you do have to do, however, is get in your pajamas and go to bed."

"Okay, Auntie Dawn," they both agreed and after planting a kiss on each of their foreheads, she started helping them get dressed for bed.

Paul appeared in the doorframe just as she tucked them in. "They're here."

She nodded and followed him out in the hallway after closing the door behind her quietly.

There were a few people in white uniforms waiting by the front door with a stretcher, one of them, who seemed to be in charge of the unit, talking to Jimmy and a policeman.

"Wait, why is the police here?" Dawn asked as her pupils dilated in fear.

"It's a standard procedure," Paul explained. "They're here to handle any resistance the unstable might demonstrate."

"No! I don't want to go! LET ME GO!"

Marina struggled with fury as two policemen dragged her out of the house. She looked over her shoulder and straight at Dawn with heartbreaking sobriety. Her light blue eyes reflected her inner torment, but what struck the girl was the panic and fear in her cousin's face.

"Marina…" she whispered and clenched her fists as tears of sorrow spilled from her eyes.

"JIMMY! DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME AWAY!" Marina cried as her voice got more desperate. "JIMMY!"

"Marina." He approached her and wiped away her tears as she continued to twist in the policemen's firm grasp. "I'll come for you soon. I promise."

She stopped moving and stared at him, seeming as thugh she was herself again. "Jimmy. Take care of the kids."

"I will." He leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead, after which she put up no resistance to being led away. "I love you," he said when she was already in the ambulance.

Dawn watched as Jimmy exchanged a few words with the medical team and then followed after them in his car. She turned towards Paul and without saying a word she put her arms around him in a tight hug. She was shaking but he hugged her back instead of pushing her away.

He didn't tell her it was going to be okay, because it was foolish to promise such things and they both knew it. He didn't say anything. They just stood there, in a silent embrace, in front of the little house, where so much had happened that night.

It wasn't reassurance. It wasn't security. Dawn wasn't sure if it was anything at all.

In that moment though, it was enough.

* * *

Dawn woke up to the sound of the front door closing and the smell of coffee. She stood up from the couch and rubbed her eyes confusedly, taking a look around.

Paul was still sleeping in his improvised bed on the floor and she tip-toed around him on her way to the hallway, careful not to wake him up. It was still dark out, which meant that they couldn't have been sleeping for more than a few hours.

"Jimmy, hey," she greeted in a hushed whisper as he took his coat off and discarded it on the hanger. "What time is it?"

"Around five," he shrugged and handed her a plastic cup of coffee. "Do you want it? I stopped at a gas station, since it was the only open place, but I don't think it's very good."

She smiled meekly as she took the cup. "It'll do. What took so long?"

Jimmy rubbed his face tiredly as they returned to the living room. "There were some complications at the… institution."

"What complications?" Dawn asked warily while taking a seat in one of the bar stools behind the kitchen counter.

Jimmy sighed. "There was a lot of paperwork that needed to be done. And there was a problem with the… accommodation, at sorts. They didn't have a single room available and I lost my temper when they told me she can't be moved to another place. Dawn, you should've seen where they're keeping her. It's… it's more than awful."

Dawn was silent for a moment. "Can we visit her?"

"The hours are very strict and you have to talk to the head doctor beforehand, but it doesn't matter because I'm not letting you go there either way."

Dawn's eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed and she thought she heard Paul stir at the volume of her voice, but she didn't care. "What do you mean you're not letting me?"

"It's just… it's a horrible place, Dawn. You've done enough for me tonight, and I'm thankful, but you already saw way more than what a kid should see. And sometimes I have to remind myself that you are, after all, still a kid." Jimmy shook his head as she stared at him incredulously, her mouth wide open. "I should have never called you for help, this… this was too much to put on your shoulders."

"She's _my cousin._ She's the closest person I have. And you're telling me I can't see her?" Dawn was almost shouting but she didn't fucking _care_.

"Not while she's in a _freaking asylum_!" Jimmy was shouting now too and there was no way Paul could sleep through this. He slammed his fist on the counter and finally broke down. "She's… she's…" he started sobbing and Dawn's gaze instantly softened.

"She's going to get better, Jimmy," she said gently.

"Really? So she can get worse once again in a few years?" he bit back, his head leaning on his hands.

Paul, who was now fully awake, stood up from the floor and took a seat in the bar stool next to Dawn, but she didn't pay him any attention as she zeroed in on Jimmy's words and the meaning behind them. "What are you talking about?"

Jimmy looked up from behind his palms, seeming as though he had calmed down a bit. "I didn't know about it either. I guess your family did, but they probably never said anything to you. And no wonder, you must have been a little child when it happened."

"When _what_ happened?"

"At the… place, they asked me a lot of questions, the answers to which I didn't know. They asked about her behavior not only this past few days, but the past years too. I didn't understand why, but then they showed me the records."

"Records? Wait, you mean that this has happened before?"

"I guess so. I never knew about it until tonight."

"But when? Did the records say what happened?"

"No, there were only dates and medicine prescriptions. It happened before Marina and I got together."

"But why didn't she tell you? And if she had medicine prescribed, then why did it happen again?"

"I don't know the answers to either of those questions, Dawn. What I know isn't the whole story and I wasn't important enough at the time for her family to tell me what was going on."

"What family? Both her parents have been dead for as long as I can remember, they couldn't have-"

"Dawn, calm down, okay? Just calm down and I'll tell you everything I know."

She exhaled and nodded. "Okay." She turned towards Paul. "I'm sorry we woke you up. Here," she pushed the cup of the very unappealing coffee towards him. "Have some."

He just glared at her, but she was too anxious to hear what Jimmy was going to say and couldn't bring herself to feel too bad for her purple-haired friend, who clearly wasn't too much of a morning person. If five a.m. could even be classified as 'morning'. Dawn turned towards Jimmy expectantly and he cleared his throat.

"As you know, Marina and I went to university together. Of course, we had known each other for a long time before that, but it was only then when we started getting closer and I started developing feelings for her. We were in the same social circle, but not in the same department, which is why when her class organized a specialized trip at the end of our first semester as seniors, she went alone. I got regular e-mails from her right to her last day of the trip, but something happened on her way back. I think she had stayed a day longer than the other students in her class, which is why she was travelling back alone, but she didn't return with the train she had told me she'd take. I waited for her at the train station with our other friends, but she never came."

"Why? What happened?"

Jimmy shrugged. "That, I can't tell you. But I didn't see her during the whole next semester. I dug up your parents' phone numbers and called them continuously, as they were the closest living relatives she had, but they never answered my calls. The administration people at the university didn't tell me anything and I was afraid that she had dropped out and left. The only thing I know was that her mother had died a few days before she went on that trip. Marina came back a few months later and made up for the semester that she had missed, but she never talked about her time away. And I never asked."

"So… the dates in the records… she was in a mental institution in that period?"

"Apparently. We've never talked about it."

"But why… why would it happen again now?"

"According to the doctors she hasn't been taking any of her medicine, not recently at least. Their guess was that she stopped taking the pills when she first got pregnant."

"I don't… I don't understand," Dawn rested her forehead on her palms. "Someone must have known what was happening, someone should have monitored her and made sure this wouldn't happen again, or at least tell you about her… problem. _Someone_ must have known."

"Dawn, someone _did _know. Someone brought her to the hospital, took responsibility by signing all the paperwork and made sure that Marina's scholarship wouldn't be lost when she returned to school and that the details of her time away would be confidential."

"Do the records say who it was?"

"They do." Jimmy looked up at her. "It was your mother."

**_Okay, I know most of you probably don't care about the Marina plotline and just want to get to the Ikarishipping, but please bear with me. Marina's whole story is based on real-life events of someone really close to me and this whole plotline was what inspired me for this story in the first place, so I had to include it. Don't worry, we're getting there on the Ikari! I wouldn't want to leave you shippers hanging, because, believe me, I love this ship just as much._**

**_Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! :)_**


	9. Mother Knows Best

_**Chapter 9 - Mother Knows Best**_

"Are you okay?"

Dawn nodded and unfastened her seatbelt. "Thanks for driving me, Paul."

He rolled his eyes. "As if you would've managed to get back home in this condition. Go and get some sleep."

She smiled at him slightly after she climbed out of his Jeep. "You too. I'll… see you around, I guess."

He just nodded before driving away and leaving her to stare at her house pensively. She wasn't okay. She was _angry_ and the lack of sleep only furtherly fueled that emotion. She had questions and she would demand answers. In her eyes, her mother owed her that much.

She inhaled and exhaled, as if to prepare herself for the confrontation that was to unfold, and took a few determined strides towards the house. She was fired up and ready to have the fight of the millennium, if only to get her mother to tell her Marina's story. She deserved to know the truth.

When she saw the note on the kitchen counter, saying "I'm out of town, be back in a week," and the money left next to it, her anger instantly doubled. But she was too exhausted to waste any more energy for anger that her mother wasn't there to see. So she went to sleep and told herself she had time to figure this out and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

She didn't see Paul again for another week.

Somewhere along the line, between him driving her to Marina's like hell was on their heels and staying there with her for the night, just because of her selfish request, she realized how much of an inconvenience she had become for him and against her will wondered if he regretted their friendship at all. It wasn't good to dwell on such thoughts, she knew, but that was one insecurity that wouldn't go away. She knew Paul was way too good and that she didn't deserve a friend like him, but somehow she had become too reliant on him and that would be an issue for both of them if there wasn't some space restored between them.

He had become her shield, her rock, her lifeline. It was nice to finally have someone to rely on, but she was letting it go too far and it had to stop. She knew she had to find some inner peace on her own, without depending on him to protect her from what haunted her thoughts and dreams, and the first step was getting answers to her million questions about her messed up family.

Until she could be for him what he was for her, it was best to put some distance between them.

So Dawn spent the time until her mother came home mostly helping Jimmy whatever way she could, looking after the kids when she had some free time and skipping whatever classes weren't all that important, avoiding Paul altogether and wondering what was wrong with her when she felt disappointed at his lack of response to that.

She couldn't tell if it was because he understood her reasons or because she simply wasn't relevant enough for him to care, but she felt disappointed, even though she didn't have the right to be so when she was being such a hypocrite.

Dawn told herself she was doing this for all the right reasons, that she had to figure this out on her own and not drag him down into the toxic poison that were her problems. She knew it was only for a short time, only until she had the information she needed to clear her head, only for a _week_.

Every night of that week, she fell asleep full of regret.

* * *

The sound of a car being pulled up in the driveway gave her a few seconds to prepare for what she had been preparing the whole week. Then she heard the key turn in the keyhole, and told herself she was ready. Dawn took one last deep breath as if to reaffirm her resolve and positioned herself in front of the kitchen counter where her mother couldn't _not_ see her. Couldn't ignore her.

Johanna entered the room, deposited her handbag on the couch and without as much as a word or a glance, passed by her on the way to the fridge. She got out a cup of yogurt and a spoon and turned to retire in her room, before Dawn spoke up.

"I need to talk to you."

Johanna didn't turn her way as she checked her phone. "I'm tired right now, Dawn. Maybe some other time."

Dawn strode towards her and caught her arm before she could escape to the bedroom upstairs, whose door was always closed to her, always deaf to her pleas. She had had enough of 'maybe some other time's. "I need to talk to you and you need to talk back."

Her mother finally looked at her, but her almost identical to hers blue eyes were empty, no emotion or life to give them a spark. "If this is about you skipping your classes, I already know all about it. I'll write you an excusatory note to pass to your school."

Dawn tried to ignore the slight sting in her chest at her mother's obvious disinterest in her school affairs and stood her ground. "No, this isn't about school."

"What is it about then?"

"It's about Marina."

Johanna sighed and moved to sit on the couch, apparently seeing that her daughter wouldn't let her off with a copout. "What about Marina?"

"I want you to tell me what happened to her during her last year at university."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Where exactly are these questions coming from?"

"You know damn well where," Dawn said in a low voice, feeling her temper rise.

Johanna crossed her legs and arms. "I don't think that I do. And watch your language, young lady."

Dawn's anger couldn't be contained any longer. "No. No, you don't get to call me 'young lady' and scold me about anything, you haven't earned that right. You know what happened to Marina and I demand that you tell me."

"You _demand_?" Johanna scoffed. "I am your _mother."_

"So they give out that title to anyone nowadays, huh? Then tell me, _mother_, how many times this year have I actually slept at home? And why didn't you care to ask me about it, not even _once_, even though you obviously knew about it?"

Her mother just stared at her with no hint of emotion or surprise to what she had just admitted.

"You know what? This isn't about me or you claiming to be a good mother. This is about Marina. You already heard my question. Now speak."

"You know, you remind me of your father so much. The tone, the disrespect, the _demand_. He'll undoubtedly be proud of his legacy."

"Do you know where Marina is right now, huh, _Mom_?" Dawn raised her voice, not to be drawn from the topic again. "Do you? Do you want me to tell you?"

Johanna just narrowed her eyes at her, but didn't say a word.

"She's in a mental hospital!" Dawn yelled, but still her mother didn't react and that added to her frustration. "Do you know why? Because she obviously has a problem you didn't deem important enough to share with the rest of the family and possibly save her the hell that she's going through right now!"

"Dawn. Calm down."

"I'm not going to calm down! You weren't _there_, you didn't see how they dragged her away! You _knew_ and you could have prevented it, so_ why_ the hell didn't you?"

"You're asking me why? Because I care about our family's name. Do you know what would happen if word got out about your cousin's breakdowns?"

"_Breakdowns?_" Dawn almost screeched, unable to believe what she was hearing. "She has an _illness_ and she needs help. Help, that could have been given to her a long time ago if you had cared about her half as much as you do about the goddamn family's name! If your reputation is really as important to you as you claim it to be, you could have at least told Jimmy. Do you have _any idea_ what he's been through this past week?"

"Oh, yes, Jimmy, that brat she decided to… _get with._ You know, he was just as annoying as you back then, calling day and night, for _months_, with no consideration whatsoever of a family's privacy."

"You had _no right_ to keep this from him."

"I did what was best for Marina. How do you think she would have managed to keep her scholarship if it hadn't been for me buying off the university's principal? Where would she have gotten if the world knew about her problem?"

"You really want to convince me what you did was in Marina's best interest? Then tell me," Dawn spat, "tell me exactly what happened. And don't spare me any details."

Johanna sighed and readjusted herself graciously against the cushions of the couch, while Dawn sat down in an armchair across from her. "It's a long story, Dawn, and not one I'm entirely keen on telling."

Dawn just glared and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she leaned back, showing that she was ready to listen and she would stay there until she got an answer.

"Fine then," her mother sighed again and rubbed her temples. "You better get comfortable, this might take some time."

She leaned back and after taking in a long and deep breath, she began her story.

"Your Aunt Dana was my sister. She was three years older than me and she was always the best in everything, which is why she was your grandparents' favorite, even though they always claimed to love us equally. We used to fight a lot as little kids, but I loved her nevertheless, because she was my sister after all. She married straight out of high-school and had Marina when she was only nineteen. She was happy to have a daughter, but she wasn't ready to give up her dreams and education because of it and neither was her husband, your uncle. They both went off to study in different cities and so Marina was left in the care of your grandparents for the first six years of her life."

"By the time Marina started school, she barely knew her parents. I helped take care of her the first two or three years, but then I moved away for the sake of my own education and I met your father," Dawn frowned. She was born a lot later, but she didn't interrupt, because she knew that the story of her mother and father was an entirely different one.

"Your aunt and uncle had gotten their respective degrees and returned home, but the most important part of Marina's childhood had already passed and they hadn't been there for it. You aunt never quite got over that; she spent the rest of her life trying to make it up to her daughter, but they never got as close as she wished. There were always those first six years separating them and I don't think Marina ever forgave her entirely for that."

"Your uncle regretted leaving her too, but he had gone through med school and was an aspiring surgeon, perhaps the best one in the hospital where he worked, so he was happy to be able to provide for the family, since Dana decided to stay at home and devote her time to her daughter. He passed away from cancer when Marina was ten years old and his death… it was very unfortunate and even a little bit absurd. He was a brilliant doctor and even though he knew he was in a grave condition, he was calm and level-headed right to the very end. He knew exactly what had to be done in his surgery and had it been possible for him to operate on himself, he might still be alive today. The ones who did the surgery, however, didn't follow through with his instructions and he died on the operating table."

"His death took its toll on the family and in her shock, Dana was on the brink of leaving town and everything behind, including her daughter, but she got back to her senses and set out to be as good as both a mother and a father to Marina. She got a job and managed to raise her, with the help of your grandparents. A brief mother-daughter bond was established during those years, but Marina always had this bitterness inside of her, she was never completely happy and even though she may have never said it aloud, I think there was a part of her that never stopped blaming your aunt."

"I think to a certain degree, she blamed herself as well, which was ridiculous, but such insecurities don't come with reason. There was a brief family celebration when she graduated high school, for which I had come back home, and she nearly broke down in front of me. From what she said I got the idea that she felt abandoned and worthless and when I told her that wasn't true, she yelled at me something among the lines of 'why did nobody want me then?!'"

"I guess the signs of her instability were already there, but I didn't make anything out of them because I thought she was just emotional before leaving for university, plus her words made sense, to a certain extent. It was normal to feel the way she felt with all that she had been through, so all I did was tell her how much her mother loved her and how much she regretted not having been there for her. She listened to me, but I'm not entirely sure if she truly believed my words,"

"I think she felt better when she got to university, because studying gave her a prospect for the future and that helped her to start letting go of the past, little by little. There was just one setback at the start of her last year. I don't have all the details since I wasn't there, but on a visit back home she had gotten in a big fight with your aunt Dana and they stopped speaking to one another. The thing that set off the argument was probably something entirely irrelevant, but somehow Marina had ended up pouring all the feelings she had hidden to her mother and the whole thing just ended badly,"

"During that time when they weren't speaking, Marina called me every other day, just to talk or ask for advice. One of the last times I heard her, she had decided to make amends with her mother when she came home for her holiday break, just after the trip she was about to take. She sounded so relieved and genuinely ready to bury the hatchet, if only to rebuild her relationship with her mother. And I think that would have given them a fresh start and freed her from the poisonous thoughts that had tortured her since she was little,"

"It would have all worked out had it not been for the accident, which took Dana's life," Johanna paused and Dawn saw that her eyes were no longer empty and emotionless. She saw that her mother still grieved over her sister's demise.

"She was… I guess she was feeling as guilty as Marina over their argument and she couldn't take any more of that gnawing guilt. She couldn't wait for Marina to come home for Christmas, so she took a bus, hoping to surprise her before her big trip. The snow came early that year and the roads iced over," Johanna sniffed. "She was one of twenty-five victims. It was a massive incident, one that the news mention every year around Christmas time. You were maybe nine or ten years old,"

"I remember," Dawn whispered, speaking up for the first time since her mother had begun the story.

She did remember; her aunt Dana's death was the event that had caused her parents to forget they were fighting for a little while, and to just send her off as a family. She remembered the funeral that she wasn't allowed to go to and the distinct words "train", "bridge", "nearly frozen to death", that she had heard behind the door she had glued her ear to on Christmas morning, whispered with urgency that suggested they were supposed to mean anything.

She had never found out what that conversation or those words spoken between her parents had meant. She had always somehow assumed it had to do with the accident, but now she was starting to suspect that her vague memories were of something else entirely.

"Mom," she started gently, "what happened to Marina on that trip?"

Her mother leaned her elbows on the coffee table and rubbed her face, effectively ruining her top-notch make-up and losing her composed posture altogether. "It must have been horrible for her," she whispered. "I insisted on her going on that trip, thinking that it would at the very least distract her. It didn't work. I called her supervisors every day and they told me she was in shock and that she barely slept or ate and sometimes fell in a state of complete oblivion, not hearing or registering anything around her."

Dawn remembered the empty expression on Marina's face as she stared at something ahead that only she could see.

"I got worried. She was away and there wasn't much I could do from a distance, so till she came back I made sure her roommate would monitor her and report back to me. I also offered her money to write from Marina's name to that persistent Jimmy, who knew something was wrong and wouldn't stop calling her, as her friend told me. The last few days of the trip I was told Marina was getting better and had come back to her usual self. I had tried to hire a local therapist who could help her, since I couldn't leave town, but she refused to see him, so I was forced to believe what her teachers and roommate told me,"

"On the last day she called me and told me she wanted to go to our hometown on the way back and visit Dana's grave. She assured me she was fine and able to take the journey alone and that she would stay with her grandparents. She sounded alright, so I had no reason to deny her wish. She hadn't had the chance to say goodbye or tell her mother that she forgave her before she passed away, so who was I to say that she couldn't go?"

"I last heard from her just as she was about to take the train. I got a call from her number a few hours later, right about the time that she was supposed to have arrived, but it wasn't her on the phone. It was some guy that had found her and called the last person she'd spoken to. Apparently, she had gotten off the train a lot earlier, in a completely different city and he'd found her sitting under a bridge, asleep and almost completely frozen. He'd called an ambulance and then contacted me from the hospital. I went to get her, but once she regained consciousness, the things she was saying didn't make any sense. The doctors told me her condition and I arranged for her to get treatment in high confidentiality."

Johanna shrugged her shoulders and looked Dawn in the eyes. "That's how she ended up in a mental institution. I pulled some strings and managed to withhold her scholarship until she was ready to get back to her studies. She later told me she didn't remember anything from getting on the train until the hospital. The doctors figured she must have blacked out."

Dawn didn't know what to say. There it was. The whole story. Her mother had told her everything, from start to finish, with every excruciating detail of how and why Marina came to be the way she was now.

"Now you know one of our family's stories," Her mother wiped a small tear off her face without smiling as she concluded her narrative. She then looked at Dawn long and hard, as if trying to estimate something. "I'm sorry," she said finally, "for not warning anybody about her condition. You were right. Jimmy should have known."

The girl only nodded, unsure of how to feel about her mother after having heard all that.

She stood up, not knowing where she was going to go or what she was going to do now that she knew. "Thank you," she turned towards her mother briefly, "for telling me all those things."

Johanna nodded and Dawn had almost left, before she spoke up after her. "Dawn."

The girl turned around and stared at her patiently, her anger from before completely evaporated.

"I know… I know I haven't exactly been the greatest mother to you and I'm truly sorry. You're a good kid and you deserve more from both of your parents."

Dawn just nodded again. She couldn't determine what she felt. She couldn't determine if she was ready to forgive and forget yet and pretend that everything in their house and family was fine. She couldn't know for sure if anything was going to change just because her mother had admitted her faults.

But she could accept her apology.

And she did way more than that. She rounded the little glass coffee table, sat on the couch besides her mother and hugged her.

It wasn't forgiveness, nor was it a clean slate and a promise for a fresh start, for a better relationship, for a sunnier tomorrow in the little gray house.

But it was something Dawn knew she would regret not having done if her mother got in an accident that night. And she couldn't afford any more regrets.

"Maybe you'll tell me the story of you and dad sometime," she suggested as she stood up and turned to leave once again.

Her mother smiled the tiniest of smiles and it was right then and there that Dawn knew the two of them still had a chance.

"Maybe."


	10. Shield, Rock, Lifeline

_**Chapter 10 – Shield, Rock, Lifeline**_

Paul hadn't seen Dawn for a week.

He told himself he wasn't worried, but he put so much effort into convincing himself that it was hardly believable anymore.

She was clearly avoiding him and he had an idea why. With everything that was going on with her family he couldn't really say he blamed her, but her absence stuck out like a sore thumb in his gray routine.

He had, with no discomfort or difficulty whatsoever, lived the way he always had before he met her. And now, after only a week devoid of her ringing voice and vibrant eyes, he found himself missing something. Missing the little arguments that kept him on edge. Missing the liveliness that she brought to his monotonous life.

Missing _her_.

It was ridiculous. The strange feeling that the lack of contact left him with. The dull ache in his chest, like he hadn't properly digested his food, or drank water too fast. It was ridiculous and troublesome and impractical, and since when did Paul Shinji experience such bothersome feelings anyway?

He did his best to tire himself to the max before going to bed, but still somehow ended up unable to fall asleep, shifting around uncomfortably and lingering endlessly in that fine line between wakefulness and slumber, chased and haunted by intuitive eyes and hues of blue. The lack of sleep kept him in a fouler mood than usual and the fact that he felt so goddamn _affected_ made his frustration promptly grow into anger.

Consequently, he was in a notorious mood for the following days and decided to dedicate himself to his studies and ignore the pang in his gut every time he saw blue flash before his vision in the halls. He tried to distract himself with writing, but no words seemed to come to him; every time he sat in front of his laptop there was this blind alley blocking his way, one which only inspiration could help him get past. At night, when he had given up on forcing himself to sleep, he was left to stare at the ceiling and wonder what the hell was wrong with him.

Paul refused to believe that Dawn's presence, or lack thereof, was to blame for his… _condition_, but there was simply no other plausible explanation, perhaps with the exception of Reggie's cakes, which seemed to get more and more sugar-infested by the day.

Dawn had decided to distance herself from him until she could resolve her family situation and he thought that was a good idea. It was smart and sensible, he couldn't contradict that. He agreed and _understood_, but then why was it so goddamn hard to just fall back to his old everyday life and feel the nothingness he was used to?

She was merely restoring some space to their friendship and reflecting on how that was affecting him, he saw how much that space had been needed. To get this disturbed simply wouldn't do, and if this overwhelming confusion was the price he had to pay for hanging around girl who looked like a water nymph, then maybe the distance between them wasn't such a bad thing.

He went on with his daily life, getting through school and home chores with barely concealed violence, continuously trying to convince himself that he was _fine_, that he was aloof, unaffected, unattached, and definitely not missing or being worried about anything or _anyone_…

He finally managed to fall sleep, after hours of wondering when the lies he told himself had become so easy to see through.

* * *

Paul woke up at two a.m. to a text from Dawn.

"I'm at the bench in Eterna park."

He knew it was an invitation and in an instant, he was angry with her. First, she hadn't spoken to him all week and now she was texting him at an obscene hour, demanding his attention and inducing him to meet her a fifteen-minute walk away in foggy weather.

Angrily, he yanked on his sneakers and tugged a hoodie over his head, taking a spare one with him just in case Dawn had gone out without regarding the chilliness outside as a reason for warm clothing (which was an alarming possibility, he scoffed as he mused how little consideration she had for her own health).

As he stalked out of his room, down a flight of stairs and out into the coldness of the night, he briefly noticed how it was never a thought in his mind to ignore her, to turn down her offer, and realizing she had that much control over him without even intending to made him that much angrier.

Not to mention, it was dangerous for her to be out alone in such an hour, and knowing that she would put her own safety in peril without as much as a second thought was what angered him the most. She certainly had enough sense to be aware of the dangers of the night, so the alternative was that she simply did not care.

His insides abruptly clenched and he quickened his pace, just enough for his stride to be barely called walking. _How could she be so careless?_

He added that to the pile of things to lecture her about as he entered Eterna Park, vaguely wondering how the hell she expected him to find _one_ bench in an area so big. He knew, of course, precisely which one she was at, since it was her favorite meeting spot, but that didn't keep him from using it as a splinter for his irrational ire towards her.

He made the rest of the trek at a pace he told himself wasn't too hurried, because who was she to expect him to fly over on demand, and in the middle of the night at that? He was contradicting himself already and that was what she unconsciously made him fucking _do, _because she was a goddamn contradiction herself, and _what was she doing to him?_

By the time he neared his destination the fog had considerably cleared out and when he saw blue from afar, Paul knew he'd found her. He started off towards her, fully intending to yell at her for being stupid and annoying and fake and _always _on his mind, when she looked up and the sorrow in her eyes made him stop in his tracks.

She was crying. Her pretty cobalt eyes were tinged red, tears streaming down her cheeks in rivers. Her hair was curly and disheveled, and she looked tiny on the cold stone bench she was sitting on.

He noticed that she had indeed neglected to put on something appropriately warm and, walking the rest of the distance towards the bench, he gently draped the spare hoodie he had brought around her shoulders.

She looked up at him and said nothing. She didn't need to.

Paul looked into her eyes, illuminated by the moonlight and sparkling from her tears, and felt his anger abruptly evaporate. He exhaled sharply and sat down next to her, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her lithe frame almost lazily. She leaned in against him, tucking into his side and suddenly overwhelming him with warmth that replaced the seething rage scalding his blood and cooled into something else entirely that he didn't recognize, but that he was instantaneously afraid of.

He chose not to run away, though, and just see where it took him. He could now say that he no longer recognized himself, but perhaps the change wasn't as unwelcome as he wished it to be.

* * *

Dawn had done what she had promised herself to never do. She had vowed not to show any weakness, to anyone ever again, yet there she was, in the middle of the night, bawling her eyes out in the strangely comforting embrace of Paul Shinji, of all people.

The overwhelming need to be in someone else's presence had gotten the better of her and straight out smashed her vow to pieces, making her finally crack and indulge in her selfishness despite her better judgement. Although she hadn't expected him to actually show up and support her with his silent understanding, instead of scoffing at her contemptuously and telling her how pathetic she was.

She knew she was pathetic indeed, but it couldn't be helped. She was bound to break sometime and it seemed like the recent happenings in her family had been more than enough to push her over the edge.

Sobbing quietly in Paul's arms, Dawn purged the sorrow out of her system, finally allowing herself to let her emotions roam free, raw and unrestrained on the surface. Sorrow for the sisters that were no more, for the unsaid goodbyes between mother and daughter, which had trapped her cousin in the torment of her mind, sorrow for her own inability to help her shoulder the weight of all the unfortunate circumstances. Dawn cried for all those reasons and a hundred more, and it felt damn _good _let go of herself for once and let out years of pent up frustration.

The lazy strokes of Paul's thumb against her arm and his heartbeat, so strong and even next to her ear, anchored her back to reality and helped her calm down in a way that her self-produced mantras of empty reassurance never could. As her sobs gradually came to a halt, she contemplated how glad she was that he hadn't ignored her selfish request. It was comforting, really, the thought of him being able to hold her together when she couldn't do so herself, just by being there.

He didn't even have to say anything, his silence spoke volumes more than any words would. His sheer presence, his unspoken understanding, was enough to bring her back to her senses, and she felt gratitude of such intensity that she doubted she'd ever be able to make it up to him.

He didn't tell her how much of an annoyance she was or the hundred ways, in which she was inconveniencing him. He just sat there and let her wet the front of his hoodie with her tears until she didn't have any left to spill, clutching its front as if her life depended on it, without scorning her about waking him up in the middle of the night and allowing him to witness the shitshow that she really was.

He was simply _there_ and it was so impossibly _good_ that she wanted to break down in sobs again, knowing how unworthy she was of having someone as wonderful as him in her life.

The sky had cleared of all previous clouds and fogginess and Dawn stared up at the twinkling stars in wonder. What made him continue to silently soothe her after having witnessed her massive display of weakness, weakness that he, of all people, was supposed to despise?

What did he see when he looked at her that made her worth the two a.m. trip to this ungodly cold bench?

As the sky went through a palette of colors and slowly bled into a quiet morning, Dawn felt _something_ change, as if in their silence they had crossed the forbidden threshold of all the things they didn't dare say aloud. She felt a transition into something deeper, not as shallow as their friendship had been mere hours before. She wondered if Paul could feel the shift as well, but didn't dare to move and sneak a peek at him, afraid that she might disturb the quiet serenity that had settled over them.

Instead she watched the sky as it went from dark to deep azure and eventually bloomed with the soft pink velvet of the dawn, creating a peaceful atmosphere around them that she was almost reluctant to disrupt.

"I'm sorry," she murmured eventually, interrupting the silence for the first time that night and effectively breaking the serene spell around them. "I'm… really, really selfish, aren't I?"

Paul didn't respond, apparently aware that the question wasn't meant for him. Instead he stood up, taking his warmth with him and leaving her to suppress a violent shiver at the sudden chill that went down her spine. Had it been that cold the whole night? She certainly hadn't felt it till now.

"Come on," Paul murmured softly. "You need to sleep." He offered her his hand, not bothering to shake the pins and needles from his arm, even though Dawn knew it had to be numb after so many hours of her latched onto it. She felt something stir inside of her at the simple gesture and accepted it with a warm smile, letting him pull her to her feet effortlessly.

She didn't feel up for an argument and opposing him would be rather pointless, really, since some rest would really do her good. He walked her back to her house, having since released her hand and shoved his own into his pockets, leaving her to snuggle in the warmth of her (Paul's) hoodie.

They reached her house faster than she expected and she turned towards him with tired, but peaceful eyes. "Good night, Paul. Or good morning, I guess. Whatever."

He stood still, like a statue, a stiff nod the only form of confirmation that he'd heard her as he stared at her, seeming lost in his own thoughts. Dawn shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze but in a rush of boldness, undoubtedly caused by her continuous sleep deprivation, she decided to push the limits even farther than they already had that night, if only to see when the rubber band would finally snap.

She wound her arms around his neck and pressed the contours of her body against his in a tight embrace that was meant to convey the immense gratitude that she felt towards him.

"Thank you," she breathed in his chest, when she felt that it wasn't enough, and even though he didn't say anything, she didn't feel disheartened in the least. On the contrary, she felt lighter than she had in ages and a sudden glimmer of hope surged through her like an electric shock, making her want to do everything in her power to do him right for all that he had done for her.

Without really trying to, Paul had become her only friend, true, but the most precious she could have asked for too, and she wanted, with all her heart, to be the kind of friend to him that he was to her.

Dawn pulled back and smiled at him, wondering if he could see the resolve reflected through her eyes. She stepped away and waved, feeling an indefinable surge of warmth in her chest as she saw that he was waiting for her to go inside her house before leaving.

Her eyes brightened as she stole one last glance towards his stoic figure in her driveway, before going inside and shutting the door quietly with a secretive smile on her lips.

She made a vow then. And it was one that she intended to keep.

She was going to be for him what he was for her, even if he didn't seem to need her the way she needed him. She had made up her mind though. And nothing could shake her resolve.

His shield. His rock. His lifeline.

His friend.

That's what she would be for him.

She hoped he would let her. She knew he couldn't stop her.

**_This is so much shorter than the usual, but it felt finished and I didn't want to risk ruining it just for the sake of length, so I hope you'll forgive me. Plus, updates have been rather regular this past month, so that's fair, in a way. Heh. Anyway, this would've been posted earlier, but as some of you may have noticed the site's been down for a while. Between refreshing the page to see if the 503 error would go away, I at least got a headstart with some ideas for the story and managed to briefly plan it out till the end. And boy, we ain't even close. As much as I want to be able to keep up the regular updates, school is starting in two weeks and I am so NOT ready for all that stress once again. Didn't summer break just begin?! I'm not quite sure what happened there. Anyway, I'll try to keep this up for as long as possible, the inspiration for this story just keeps coming and coming! Your kind reviews also haven't gone unnoticed, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me!_**

_**Well, anyhow. Thanks for reading!**_


	11. Keep Your Friends Close

_**Chapter 11 – Keep Your Friends Close**_

_silence is my jam but i like rock too_  
_Sunshine! Hey, sorry for the long absence! How have you been?_

_escaping my thoughts  
__I've been good._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
You know, proper social etiquette dictates that you should ask me how I've been for the sake of the conversation._

_escaping my thoughts__  
Dictates? Sorry, I don't respond well to dictatorship._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Okay then, __**your majesty**__, does 'suggest' sound any better to your regal ears?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
It's acceptable. Have it your way then, you little annoyance. Please enlighten me as to your current state of spirits. There._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Maybe tone down the big words a little? I'm just a peasant, after all. But I'm glad that you asked! I'm actually finding myself in quite the pickle._

_escaping my thoughts__  
You really are a simpleton. 'And what has made for your… confused situation?' he asked, feigning interest and decidedly refusing to use a word as undignified as 'pickle'._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
The details of my dilemma are as it follows: how do you get a gift for somebody who seems so… uninterested in something as trivial as material objects? How do you shop for a person like that? And it's not like I can walk up to him and ask him about it, because… well, just because. He's the kind of person who'd only stare at me blankly until I felt uncomfortable and made a retreat. So what do I do?_

_(And what's up with the pickle hate? I would have thought you loved pickles, seeing as they match your sour personality.)_

_escaping my thoughts__  
Well, if the person holds no value for material things, which I can completely understand, why bother getting him something material in the first place? Furthermore, if you really don't know much about his interests, there's a very little chance that he'd appreciate anything you get him. I'd consider a gesture of a non-materialistic kind._

_And enough about the pickles already. I don't hate them or anything, I just think that they aren't the best choice for a figure of speech when you want to be taken seriously._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
What you're saying makes sense, but it has to be an object. I'm not exactly sure why, but it does. It's like… I want him to have something physical, that he can see and touch, so that when he looks at it, he's… I dunno… reminded of me? I just want to give him something that will last. And preferably, that he can use. And that he will like. That's why this is so damn hard and you're no help!_

_And why would you think that I want to be taken seriously? 'Pickle' is the perfect word for my kind of dictionary. I am, like you said, merely a simpleton._

_escaping my thoughts__  
Seems to me like you're trying to secure this person's affections. Have you considered asking someone close to him about his preferences? A second opinion might do you good and since I don't know the person in question, or even you, I can't really be of much help._

_On that, we can both agree on. I'm glad you've finally come to terms with your true self. Embrace it._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Mind you, this has nothing to do with 'securing' anyone's affections. It's merely a way of expressing gratitude. I doubt that's a concept you'd understand. Actually, that's a really good idea! I happen to know a rather mischievous relative of his, who will be more than happy to help me out._

_Thank you! I, in turn, encourage you to accept your true self as well! You know what that is? A fucking prick._

_Embrace it, Sunshine. And up yours._

_escaping my thoughts  
__Glad I could help. And worry not, you're not the first to have told me this, I've long since embraced it. As much as I'd hate to lower myself to your level and use phrases as magnificently eloquent as that, there really is no other way to put it. So up yours too._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Aw, you break my heart. Really._

_OH! There's another thing I wanted to ask you about. There's this friend I have…_ Well, _**had**__, to be more precise. We cut ties some time ago, but some recent revelations I've had have made me want to try and rebuild our friendship. The thing is I know that this former friend of mine would accept me back without a second thought, but I kind of want to… earn it, this time. I was quite selfish and inconsiderate before, and I want to make up for it. The kicker is, I don't really know how to do that._

_Thoughts?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
And here I thought I was your only friend. Hn._

_Why bother yourself with unnecessary things you don't know how to do if in the end the result is going to be the same? Really, setting out to be an overachiever won't do you much good and you'll constantly find yourself in such dilemmas. Just take the easy route out for once. Annoying._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Is this 'hn' an universally accepted word that only I am unaware of? Seriously, what is up with people using it? What does it even mean? Explain it to me, Sunshine, because I have found myself wondering what the hell this fucking 'hn' means more times that you can imagine. Apparently I need to get my dictionary updated with the laconic syllables people use to express themselves nowadays. And I am a teenager, but honestly, what the hell is wrong with today's generation?!_

_And no, with this I really can't take 'the easy way out'. What's more, I don't want to. This person deserves every effort in the world, so it's only fair that I do my best to make things right, especially after the way I treated them before. It's mainly for my own benefit, really. If I rekindle this friendship I may as well make sure that I'm worthy of it, right?_

_escaping my thoughts__  
'Hn' is 'hn'. It just means that you're annoying._

_You sound determined to prove something to yourself. I honestly never pitched you for someone so insecure._

_But if your mind's set on the hard way, then do as you see fit. The only piece of advice I can offer you is to be open to your friend about the way you felt and the things you did. Justify yourself if you think what you did was right. Apologize if you don't. Be honest, see how your friend reacts to it and work your way up from there._

_I can't really say anything else that may be of help to you. You're the one that has set the confines of this concept of 'worth' around yourself. You're the only one who can break free from them._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Wow, I… I don't really know what to say. Thank you, I guess. You have been a big help._

_(Excluding the 'hn' subject, but I'll let that one slide. Seriously. Thank you.)_

_escaping my thoughts__  
No need to thank me. I'm just bored._

_And good luck._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
Thanks. I think I'll be needing it._

* * *

He somehow knew it was Dawn that rang the doorbell even before he went to open the door.

He was right, of course; she was waiting patiently on the porch, looking as carefree and scatterbrained as if she had just taken a healthy dose of Reggie's happy pills. A jubilant grin bloomed across her features as she looked up to his scowling face and his eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion.

"Hey!" she greeted breezily as she waited for him to step aside and let her in. Instead, he walked out of the house fully and closed the door behind him, not missing the little pout that formed on her lips at his actions.

Paul was sure that her unexpected visit had some ulterior motive, for she wasn't one to do things just for the '_knack' _of it. Perhaps except when it came to random walks in the middle of the night, but that didn't seem to be the case this particular Saturday afternoon.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest expectantly, showing her it was her cue to enlighten him with an explanation, but she just fiddled with her sleeve in what he recognized to be one of her nervous tics. A sloppily concealed one at that.

"So… uhm… how are you?" she asked, trying to mask her uncertainty with a smile, but his discerning eyes saw right through it.

"What is it," Paul asked bluntly, deciding he'd have none of her pathetic acting attempts. Her smile fell and she rolled her eyes with a sigh. It was an annoying habit of hers, but at least it was genuine.

"Okay, I actually came to talk to Reggie for a bit," she folded her hands behind her back in a timid motion, blushing to the roots of her blue hair as she shifted her weight back and forth. Paul just watched her in befuddlement. Reggie? Why would she want to talk to his brother, of all people?

"Hmm." He took a threatening step forward and noted how she instinctively stepped back, gripping the wooden railing behind her as she suddenly found herself trapped. She fearlessly faced his suspicious stare head on, although there was an unmistakable twinge of guilt in her blue eyes. "What do you need him for."

It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as more of a demand than anything else. "I… uhm…" she was clearly intimidated by his intense stare and his towering figure over her as she backed against the railing as far as she could. To her credit, she made a remarkable effort to mask her discomfort, but it wasn't enough to fool him. "I… I wanted to ask him a question, is what… it is. Uhm… a… a baking question."

"A baking question," he repeated, letting her know just what he thought of her pathetic excuse.

He could tell he was unnerving her, but it was her own fault for throwing those ridiculous justifications at him, expecting him to accept them as if he was an imbecile. The guilt in her eyes was replaced with annoyance as she got impatient with him and went on the offense. "Yes, a baking question. What's it to you anyway?" She poked him in the chest accusingly. "Whatever it is that I want to ask him is _my_ business."

He gripped the offending finger, which seemed to be determined to dig a hole through his chest, and stared at her with narrowed eyes for a few intense seconds. She matched his stare fiercely, but he noticed how her breath caught in her throat and how she almost gulped under his gaze, before he let go and took a few steps back, giving her room to breathe once again.

"Very well then," he crossed his arms over his chest. "He's in the kitchen. Suit yourself."

Dawn stared at him with wide eyes for a few more seconds, as if glued to the spot, but then seemed to come to her senses and just nodded before going inside, having been granted permission. He exhaled gruffly and rubbed his face, wondering what the hell had happened just then. He didn't particularly care what she so secretly wanted to talk to Reggie about, certain that they would plan a conspiracy of some sort against him.

Dawn's resonant laugh echoed from inside a few minutes later, accompanied by Reggie's girlish giggles, and he decided that it was probably best if he just didn't know.

The girl reappeared on the porch with a nonchalant expression, but the smug smirk on Reggie's face as he leaned on the doorframe and pinned his mirthful eyes on Paul was a dead giveaway. They were _definitely_ plotting something. The tension in the air was almost palpable as the two struggled not to erupt in another fit of laughter, while he just watched them with an unimpressed scowl on his face.

Their attention was soon redirected to Paul's mother who seemed to materialize out of nowhere with a bag of freshly bought strawberries in her hands. "Dawn!" She smiled widely at the sight of the girl she had grown to be quite affectionate of. "Are you here for another cooking session?"

A rare easy smile took its place on Dawn's face at his mother's cordiality towards her as she shook her head slightly, blue tresses dancing around her face as she did so. "Not today, I'm afraid. But how's tomorrow?"

Violet smiled in turn. "Tomorrow's perfect." She took a look at the bag in her hands. "Too bad you can't stay now though, I planned on getting a head start on some jam."

"Ooh, you don't wish to miss how mom chases away Paul with a spoon when he tries to sneak a premature taste," Reggie remarked snidely, earning a dirty glare from his sibling.

Dawn laughed resonantly. "Well, I truly am sorry to miss such a spectacle, but I really can't stay. I have a date to get to."

She looked down and dusted herself off casually, missing the looks of astonishment on Reggie and Violet's faces. Paul managed to quickly mask his shock with a look of disapproval as he suddenly felt an ugly feeling surge through him that he classified as simple brotherly protectiveness, unwilling to think about the alternative.

"A d-date?" Violet prompted, clearly taken aback by the sudden announcement. She moved her eyes between her and Paul in clear confusion. He sent her a discreet glare, very aware of what was going through her head.

Dawn smiled to the woman obliviously. "Yeah. I'm meeting an old friend of mine at this café downtown," she rubbed the back of her head kind of sheepishly, unaware of the way that all three members of the Shinji family were hanging onto her words closely. "We have a lot of catching up to do. I haven't talked to her in quite a while."

Violet blinked. Reggie chuckled. Paul just stared.

"Oh," Violet was the first to recover. "Well, I hope we aren't keeping you late for your… date. I'll be expecting you tomorrow then."

Dawn smiled. "Of course. Should I bring a hair net?"

The woman mirrored her smile. "That goes without saying."

Reggie reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately, much like he often did his brother's. "Enjoy yourself, kiddo."

She giggled and nodded. "Sure thing. And thanks for… the talk that we had. I appreciate it." She bowed down to them and turned to leave, waving at Paul when she was already well on her way down the street.

"See ya!"

He just crossed his arms and followed her with his eyes, letting out a low chuckle. "Yeah. See ya."

* * *

Dawn took a deep breath as she turned the corner and saw May already waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of the café where they had agreed to meet. She gulped in an unusual display of nervousness and then told herself that she was being stupid and that there was nothing to feel so anxious about.

She tucked the lower half of her face in her collar as she neared her former friend, absentmindedly noting the sudden turn that the weather had taken the past few days; you could definitely tell that winter was approaching.

Dawn stopped a few steps away from May, who was facing the other direction and still hadn't noticed her. She clenched and unclenched her fists in an attempt to tone the rising uneasiness inside of her down and cleared her throat lightly, effectively attracting the other girl's attention.

The brunette spun around and the moment her sapphire eyes met Dawn's uncertain ones, her face instantly lit up with a wide smile. "Dawn!"

And without any further ceremony, she wrung her arms around the shocked girl, squeezing her in a tight embrace.

Wait.

What.

"I'm so glad you texted me! To be honest, I half-expected you to never show up, but you're here!"

"I… uhm…" Dawn stuttered, unsure of what to say to the over-enthusiastic girl, who seemed to have forgotten that the two of them hadn't had a decent conversation for well over a year. Except for that brief encounter a few weeks back, but that was hardly what most people would define as 'a decent conversation'.

"How are you?" May asked with barely contained excitement as she pulled back and kept her hands on Dawn's upper arms. The latter girl felt as though she was being inspected under close examination and briefly wondered if the brunette was looking for bruises on her face, like the one she had noticed back then, the one that had made her inquire for her well-being even though they hadn't been on speaking terms at the time.

"I'm… good, thank you," Dawn answered, still a little taken aback by her friend's cheerful attitude towards her.

She had expected her to be civil to her, in the best case scenario, and with full-on despise in her eyes, in the worst. But this girl, this_ wonderful_ girl, who didn't have a grudge-holding bone in her body, was so kind-hearted that she was able to look at Dawn as if they had never fallen apart, and forgive her about the awful things she had said to her without even mentioning it. Just like that.

"I'm great actually," she whispered and pulled a beaming May in for another hug.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that! To tell you the truth, I was quite surprised when you contacted me, but also immensely relieved that you were willing to forgive me despite all the things that I did way back then. I mean, I never stopped hoping, but I would've never guessed that-"

"Hold on," Dawn interrupted the rapid string of words flowing from the other girl's mouth. "Why would _I_ have to forgive _you_?"

May's eyes suddenly widened in fear. "Don't you?"

Dawn chuckled a little. "I don't have anything to forgive you for, May. You… you never did me wrong, despite all the horrible things that I said to you. It's me that's grateful to be forgiven by you."

May scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "But… but I left you."

Dawn simply smiled at her. "If I was in your shoes, I would have done it a lot earlier. Trust me," she looked down, biting her lip, "you did the right thing to cut ties with me back then. I was… horrible."

"Oh, Dawn, that isn't true!" May grasped her hands as if to reassure her in her words. "You were having a hard time at home and I didn't really understand what you were going through. You know," she paused and searched Dawn's face for a moment. "My parents got a divorce this summer. It sucked. And it finally made me realize how awful it must have been for you. I know your situation was, like, ten times worse, but still…" She pursed her lips and looked down in something akin to shame. "I can't tell you how I much I regret not being there for you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Dawn said with a soft smile as she squeezed her friend's hands. "What do you say we put this whole thing behind us?"

May's eyes lit up and she nodded quickly, relief and happiness washing across her face. "Of course! Oh, dude… you have _no idea_ how much I have missed my best girlfriend."

Dawn laughed a little. "I _think_ I can get the gist of it. Now, what do you say we get out of here? It's damn cold."

"Sure! Where do you want to go?"

"Actually, there was this gift I was hoping you'd help me with. I need a second opinion."

"A gift?" May tilted her head to the side curiously as the two began walking down the street, arms linked together in the most familiar and natural way, as if they had never been apart. "Who's it for?"

"Ah. His name's Paul," Dawn said casually as she led them on the familiar route towards the flea market. "You might know him from school."

"Paul Shinji?" May exclaimed, the volume of her voice hitting the highest octave in her incredulity.

"Uh, yeah. We're kind of friends."

"Wow. I never would have guessed. What's he like?"

"He's…" Dawn paused for a moment, wondering what the proper word would be. "Well, it's kind of hard to tell what's going through his head at times, but once you get to know him it becomes clear that he's very kind-hearted." She gave her brunette companion a side glance and smirked. "Kind of like you."

"Like me? You're just shitting me, right?" May laughed as she threw her head back in mirth.

"Well, he's sort of like you, in a way. Except…" Dawn smiled to herself slightly. "Except that he isn't like you at all. I really don't know how to describe him. But you have this one thing in common. You're both impossibly understanding."

"Understanding, huh." May look mildly impressed for a moment. "Well, anyway, what are you getting him?"

"Well," Dawn grinned as she saw that they had reached their destination. "We were here some time ago and he seemed apathetic towards everything, even though I liked a ton of stuff. There was only one thing that I caught him looking at for longer than a millisecond."

May raised her eyebrows and asked teasingly, "Apart from you?"

Dawn punched her in the arm, knowing that she was just messing around. God, how she had missed her. "_No_. A typewriter."

"Seriously? A typewriter?" May looked around discreetly, then leaned in closer to Dawn with a puzzled expression on her face. "He does know that we live in the twenty-first century, doesn't he?"

"What, there's nothing wrong with that! The thing is that he seemed so opposed to most things old and I couldn't help but wonder if I had imagined it."

"So? What are you going to do? I mean, it's risky. He'll either love it or hate it, and you can't really base your hopes on a mere glance."

"That's true," Dawn nodded before letting a mischievous smile make its way onto her face. "But it's not just that I'm basing my hopes on. You see… As his brother tells me there's a hobby that this supposed friend of mine hasn't deemed important enough to mention throughout the course of our acquaintance…" She was full-on grinning now.

May mirrored her grin once she caught on to the meaning of her words. "Don't tell me he's a writer."

Dawn just nodded affirmatively. "And I'm going to make sure he regrets not telling me."

"Oh, you sly little minx," May laughed as they stopped in front of the writing machine in question. Dawn carefully assessed it with glinting eyes, while her friend observed her closely, a strange thought starting to take shape in her mind.

Hours later, when they were lying around in the brunette's bedroom idly, enjoying each other's company and indulging in a rather challenging box of ice-cream while Abba hits played in the background, May still caught her friend sending the recently wrapped box glances every now and then with the smallest of smiles. And she decided that something simply had to be done to satisfy her curiosity.

Straight up confrontation was never the right way to go with Dawn, though, and she settled on a subtler approach, choosing to just see what reactions she could get from her friend. "Hey Dawn?"

"Yeah?" The other girl replied somewhat distractedly, her eyes quickly moving from the gift on the ground to May's.

"Have you read something of his? Paul, I mean."

Dawn furrowed her brows together. "No. Like I told you, he never told me that he writes."

"Hmm," May hummed as she took a spoonful of ice-cream in her mouth. "You should talk him into giving you some of his work. For, like, compensating that he kept it a secret from you all this time."

Dawn's shoulders trembled with genuine laughter before she shook her head. "I don't think he'd react well to such blackmail."

"You're probably right." May paused for a second and bit her lip as she fought a mischievous smile. "You know what they say about a writer, right?"

"No, what?" Dawn inquired as her lips curved up a little in curiosity.

May finally let the devilish grin overcome her features.

"If he falls in love with you, you can never die."

There were a few seconds of silence, after which the brunette felt a soft pillow promptly hit her on the face. Dawn didn't say anything in response to her teasing and just resumed her battle with the ice-cream imperturbably, but May smiled nevertheless.

It wasn't much, but it was just enough to convince her that maybe what she was thinking wasn't so absurd after all.

As she dropped the subject and refocused her attention on the dessert as well, humming quietly to the uplifting chorus of _Dancing Queen_, she absently contemplated that there was a very real possibility that her blind predictions might one day come to be reality.

She shot a glance towards Dawn, who was absentmindedly playing with the ribbon around the typewriter's encasement, a faraway look on her face.

It was a very real prospect indeed. And her oblivious dear friend wasn't aware of it in the least.

_**So, I guess that's what one calls a 'filler chapter'. It's a nice little light-hearted break from the usual pace of the story and it was very enjoyable for me to write, as I hope it was for you to read. What do you think of May's reappearance in the story? She won't have a major role, I just thought I'd entertain the idea of her and Dawn being the kind of friends whose attachment to one another doesn't fade so easily, despite the tough circumstances. Anyway, thanks for reading! Share your thoughts with me!**_


	12. Write About Me

_**Goddamn fucking school, I hate you sooo much for not letting me update for so long. It's goddamn Christmas Eve, the first day of my ten-day holiday break and the first time in months I am actually inspired to type up this chapter, even though I pretty much have the whole story laid out and planned till the end, chapter by chapter. I'm so incredibly sorry it took so long, I'm just as angry with myself as I imagine you might be (if there is actually someone left to read this after this long absence). Anyway, I would just like to use this opportunity to wish you all happy holidays and an incredible time with your loved ones! It's 2016 in a week, so y'all better get started with your New Year's resolutions. Loki knows finding more time for my stories is on my list!  
Once again, please forgive me for failing to update sooner! I love you all!**_

**_Chapter 12 - Write About Me_**

"…Sweatpants day," his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Really," He gave her the once-over and crossed his arms in front of his chest skeptically. "You're wearing jeans."_**  
**_  
"I appreciate the observation, but if you would just stop being a smart-ass for once and let me in? It's freezing out here!"

"Hn," he grunted as he stepped aside and made way for her to come inside.

"If you must know, I _do_ intend to spend the entire day in sweatpants and stop giving me the suspicious stink eye, they're in my bag! I couldn't exactly show up in the hospital with them, now could I?"

"…hospital." He paused. "Visiting day."

Dawn sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, dumbass, it's Sunday, and you should really make an effort to make your questions sound like _actual_ questions. It's really not that hard."

Paul just let the light jabs he knew she didn't mean slide and stared at her thoughtfully. Marina was a touchy subject, one he understood she wasn't open to discussing with him, or anyone else. On visiting days like these he would just humor her the best he could. He knew how valuable distractions were in such situations, even if they were as idiotically sounding as 'sweatpants day'.

He looked at her patiently as she removed her forest green scarf from around her neck and deposited it on top of the shoe cabinet offhandedly. She ran a hand through her hair and paused, her unfocused gaze wandering across the carpeted floor.

"She has cut all her hair off," she whispered finally, raising her head slightly, but not meeting his eyes. "They don't know how she did it though, no blades or scissors are allowed. Maybe someone did it for her, I don't know."

"Dawn."

She put her arms around herself and closed her eyes. "It's horrible there. They have more people in than there is space for and all the other patients take the stuff we bring her." She cast her gaze downwards. "She didn't even get a bite of the cake Reggie made."

"Don't think about it," he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head.

"Not thinking about it doesn't make it go away," she mumbled against his chest and snaked her sweater-clad arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

He said nothing and just weaved his fingers through her hair, fondling with her blue tresses soothingly.

"I'm going to go cook with your mom. We're making lasagna," Dawn said after a bit, still not letting go of him.

"Hn," he hummed as he buried his nose in her hair.

"You wanna watch a movie later?" She pulled back and gave him a feeble smile.

He looked at her, entranced for a second. Her closeness, her mere presence, brought a foreign kind of tranquility inside of him, a scary surge of warmth that he only briefly recognized, and it felt invigorating and terrifying in equal measure. He blinked as he realized he was staring and cleared his throat. "Sure."

Her smile widened just a little. "Sweatpants obligatory."

She was so close. He felt a tingle go up his spine.

"Hn," Paul retracted his arms from around her and turned away from her and towards the staircase. "Go warm yourself up. Reggie's made tea."

Damn. He was way too disconcerted by this enigma of a human being already, and she hadn't even been in his house for two full minutes.

* * *

Dawn allowed herself a small smile as she watched Paul's retreating back, before making her way to the kitchen in the now familiar house.

"Good morning," she chirped at Reggie, who had bored his nose in the newspaper while slowly swirling a cinnamon stick in his coffee.

"Oh! Good morning, Dawn!" he exclaimed with a smile and folded the newspaper neatly. "Mom's out for groceries, she should be back any minute now. You want some tea?"

"Yes, please," she said as she took a seat on a bar stool behind the counter.

"So," he grinned as he passed her a cup of steaming tea and started wiping the counter demonstratively. "As your bartender for the day, I'm ready to hear all about your troubles. Shoot."

Dawn wrapped her hands around her cup and bit her lip. "I need your help with something. Remember how we talked about… the present? Well, I got it and it's perfect, but I don't know how to give it to him."

Reggie raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his coffee. "Why not just give it to him?"

The girl pouted. "Well, that's not fun, is it? I mean, it's the perfect setting. He doesn't know I know this about him, just imagine how kumfumbled he's going to be."

"You're right, this does present us with quite the entertaining possibilities." Reggie propped his elbows on the counter and leaned his chin on his entwined fingers pensively.

"So? You got any ideas?"

"Just bring it over later and leave the rest to me. And don't put your name on the tag," he grinned devilishly. "Let's have him exercise his brain a little."

Dawn grinned too. "Don't worry. I wasn't planning to." She finished the last of her tea and jumped from the bar stool. "I'm going to go change. Thanks, Reggie, you're a great help."

He just chuckled as he pictured his brother's bewildered face when he got the typewriter. "Oh, it's my pleasure."

* * *

"Hey, have you seen my hairnet?"

"No."

"Ugh, I have to find it. Your mom won't let me within five feet of her food without it."

"Tragic."

"You're such a pain in the ass, Paul. Would it hurt you to be helpful for once?"

"Hn."

"What are you doing, anyways?"

"Nothing," he lied as he hastily pulled the screen of his laptop down.

"Yeah, right," Dawn scoffed as she peered behind his shoulder. "Come on, what were you doing?"

He turned towards her with a blank expression. "I think your hairnet is in the pocket of your jeans."

"Aw, come on! What were you doing that you won't tell me about?"

"None of your business," he cut off without missing a beat.

...

"You weren't watching porn, were you?"

His face suddenly grew hot and as pink as Reggie's godforsaken apron and he almost choked on his own spit. "Wh- no!"

She leaned in closer to his face with raised eyebrows and an innocent smile painted on her lips. "Then?"

"Ugh, you're one hell of an annoyance, you know that?"

"Yup, so I've been told," she chirped as she lightly shoved him and squished herself next to him in his chair, while he just stared at her, scandalized. "So tell me, what were you doing?"

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" He shot her a dirty glare, which didn't seem to affect her in the least.

"Nope," she giggled as she lightly tapped the closed lid of his laptop with her index finger. "So?" She turned towards him with big curious eyes _and damn, he had never noticed how blue they were._

He froze with fascination for a moment, then abruptly moved his gaze away. "I was writing. A message."

She tilted her head to the side with interest. "A message?"

"Yes. To… an online friend."

Dawn gaped at him incredulously. "You have a pen-pal? _You_?"

"If you could stop yelling like an imbecile, that'd be great," he remarked as he stood up and went over to a chair in the other side of the room where her jeans lay in a messy pile. He got her hairnet out of their left pocket and tossed it towards her while she just sat and continued gawping at him as if he'd just told her he was the Easter Bunny. "Funny, you seemed to be in quite the hurry just a minute ago. Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on the oven?"

She huffed as she got up begrudgingly and lifted the hairnet from the ground with excessive dramatism. "And here I thought I was your only friend."

He rolled his eyes as she marched past him and out of the room dramatically and after making sure that she was safely downstairs, he returned to his spot in front of the laptop. _Might as well finish that PM while she's gone._

He typed up the usual string of insults he regarded _silence is my jam but i like rock too_ with, and sent it with one swift click of his mouse.

A sudden buzz resonated through the room and nearly gave him a stroke as he jumped from his chair with a start.

He looked around in alarm, before attributing the sound to Dawn's phone, which she had left under her jeans and backpack. _Sweet mother of… _Even when she wasn't there, she somehow managed to scare the living daylights out of him. He tsk-ed and turned around to face his laptop once again.

His keen eyesight immediately caught on a typo in the message he had just sent and his eyes narrowed in irritation. He hated typos. He hated seeing them in published material or online and he hated unknowingly making them even more, which is why the disgracefully misspelled version of the word "definitely" stuck out like a sore thumb under his critical gaze.

His eye twitched. His fingers flexed uncertainly, but then he gave in to the temptation and typed the word correctly, deciding that he would rather live with the title of a Spelling Nazi than leave it be and not be able to fall asleep because of his lexical error.

He was a lunatic, he knew. But that type of lunacy, he could live with. He pressed 'send' with a strange sense of self-satisfaction and leaned back with a content smirk.

That is, until he was scared shitless by an abrupt buzz, which this time nearly sent him falling off his chair. _Oh, for the love of-!_ She couldn't have bothered to simply turn off her goddamn-

Wait.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as they traveled from his laptop to the pile on the chair where Dawn's phone was innocently lying, and back to his laptop again. Hm. No, it couldn't be.

He tried to redirect his attention back to his own business, but found it impossible to focus when the peculiar object was so close within his grasp, with its owner nowhere to be seen. That was a temptation too great even for him to resist, so he got up and took her phone in his hands, hesitating for a second.

_This is stupid,_ he mentally scoffed at himself and pressed the home button of the device, causing the screen to light up and reveal the notifications, which had made for the startling buzzes. She had received an email, it seemed, but he couldn't see what its content was, as the phone had to be unlocked and there was a passcode.

His eyebrows creased in confusion as he looked back to his desk where his laptop sat, the green and orange colors of the PM page dancing before his vision and making his head go dizzy with absurd probabilities.

"Hey, Paul, have you seen my phone? I need it to time the cookies." He was so preoccupied with crazy assumptions that he couldn't even find it in himself to be startled by her sudden appearance in the room.

"Oh, there it is!" She snatched it from his outstretched hand before he could even register what was happening and in a blue blur and a breezy "thanks, Paul!" she was gone once again.

Not two minutes later he received a notification. A new PM from _silence is my jam but i like rock too_. He looked at the door incredulously. No, it was simply impossible. Just… no.

He rubbed his temple in exasperation. Great. Somehow she had found a brand new way to mess with his head, and she didn't even know it.

Paul sighed. _I guess I can kiss my goodnight's sleep goodbye then._

Damn that girl. Damn it all.

* * *

"Hey, Paul." Dawn spoke up suddenly as she pressed pause on some old-ass black and white movie she loved. _The Philadelphia Story, _or some shit of the sort.

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows quizzically. He had just managed to gain some interest in the comedic plotline and now she was going to make it evaporate with whatever she had paused the movie to say.

"Is it… weird? Me being here?"

The honest question wasn't quite what he had expected. "Why? Is it weird for you?"

"No. Not as much as it used to, at least." She glanced at her hands. "It's just… Remember that family reunion you invited me to? Well, that Reggie invited me to?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, well. I don't know, we were practically strangers back then and I felt like an intruder in your house, with all those people I didn't know and who didn't know me. We're friends now, so it's kind of different, but back then…"

He scrunched his eyebrows. "What?"

"I don't know, I felt as if I was butting in in your pomegranate."

He blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You know, your pomegranate."

"No, I don't know. What fruity bullshit are you talking about?"

"You have peeled a pomegranate, right? Well, you know how the seeds each fit in their own… compartment-thingy? I don't know what it's called. They each have their place and there's a determined number of seeds that fit into one pomegranate."

He was now staring at her with barely concealed amusement, an almost smile tugging on his lips at the hilarious absurdities that were pouring out of her mouth.

"You and all of your family members, who are _a lot_, by the way, and I've actually been meaning to ask you if you have some kind of Shinji reproduction secret, but I'm getting off topic. So, you were the pomegranate seeds. And being there, I just felt like this… this _grape_ that had no place intruding on your family time, in your pomegranate. Plus, I know that you only let me come because Reggie invited me, and… I don't know, I was just wondering if you ever felt it was odd too."

She bit her lip and looked at him uncertainly, while he stared right back with an incredulous expression on his face.

"That… that is just the worst metaphor ever."

Dawn smacked him on the arm and laughed lightly. "Yeah, well, I've never claimed to be good with words. That's your kind of forte, I guess."

Paul's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

She blinked rapidly, then just smiled and waved dismissively. "I just meant that since I'm not really good at expressing myself verbally, everyone else is better in comparison. You included." She smiled again, as if to reassure him in her words' authenticity. "That's all I meant."

She turned back towards the movie they had been watching and pressed play, focusing her attention on her favorite black and white cinematic entertainment once again, but Paul continued looking at her with a fair amount of suspicion in his eyes.

Too many things to make him doubtful in one day. He needed to just stop thinking.

_Chill out, Shinji. That's all she meant. She doesn't know that you write. She isn't your online pen-pal. Jeez, hanging out with this girl has made you even crazier than her. And that is an achievement one really shouldn't brag about. If she's batshit crazy, then you're like… platypus-shit crazy, or something. And that sentence officially confirms that you've gone absolutely insane._

_Just chill out and stop making up ridiculous crap. Watch this Philadelphian people in their corny cameos and relax._

Paul just sighed and tried to focus his attention on Cary Grant's performance; he was being paranoid over nothing.

* * *

He was _definitely NOT_ being paranoid over shitfucking nothing, he thought as he stared, dumbfounded, at the package in front of him.

It was a typewriter, but that wasn't even the part that bedazzled him the most.

It was a typewriter that _he had seen before._

And he had been with Dawn at the time.

This was just a prank Reggie must have schemed to mess with his head, nothing else. It was just a coincidence that it happened to be the exact same model he had been ogling at that flea market all those weeks ago. Perhaps the dent in the bottom left corner was just a manufacturing defect? It had to be.

Even if he considered the possibility that it _might_ have been Dawn's doing, it was simply because she had caught him looking at the typewriter, nothing more. Unless Reggie had sold him out. No, he couldn't have. He wouldn't.

Would he?

Paul groaned.

He _SO_ would. It was his brother they were talking about, of course he would do something like this.

Fucking Reggie.

Paul ran his fingers across the deep green case and then opened it to reveal the typewriter. Yup, it was definitely the same one. Except for a few words that already had been typed up on the blank paper, which he hadn't noticed upon his first look at the present when it had magically appeared in front of his bedroom door that evening (and had nearly tripped him and sent him plummeting to his death on the hardwood floor).

_"Write about me."  
_  
He gaped at the three simple words, which were staring right back at him, cold and hard evidence in their inky finality, that it definitely hadn't been his brother. Not even he was capable of boggling with his mind this way.

He stood there, undoubtedly looking idiotic as hell, and just stared at the piece of paper tucked perfectly where paper was supposed to go. _Write about me.  
_  
He felt a rush of feelings surge through him, so entwined and complex, that he couldn't separate one from the other and determine their nature. But this unidentifiable fluttering in his chest, even though it was as foreign to him as the Latin language, felt so simple and natural that it had him wondering if it hadn't been there, lurking deep inside, all along.

His heart rate picked up and fingers started tapping rapidly against his thighs as he hurriedly turned on his laptop and opened the Word document, where he had begun his essay for Farrell. Without even reading what he had written thus far, he deleted everything in one swift move, not bothering to create a safety copy for the content he decided not to use, like he normally would have done.

He started typing, without pausing to take a break or even think, the words transmitting from his mind to his fingers faster than ever before. He briefly wondered if Farrell would send reports on his essay, once it was finished, to Reggie, and what they would come up in their attempts to try and interpret his work.

He made time in his haste to chuckle briefly. All the better. It had been those two airheads who had started everything. Let them draw their own conclusions. All they did was gossip and eat rainbow-barf cakes, anyway.

Paul wondered, as he continued writing, _writing about her_, just as she had requested, what this unexpected surge of inspiration meant.

Was it love? No, it couldn't be. How could he love her without knowing who she was?

Slowly, she was unravelling to him, true. But there was still so, _so _much of her that he didn't know. That she didn't know of _him_.

Gradually, he was learning what made her laugh and cry, what made her who she was, what made her _Dawn_. Even though she lowered her guard little by little, there was still so much of her that he didn't know, that he wanted know, that he feared to know; so much of herself that she kept_ to_ herself and away from him. So much of himself that he was not yet ready to bare to her.

So, no. Whatever this was, it wasn't love. It had the potential to evolve into something, someday, maybe. But the fact remained that Dawn and Paul hadn't opened up to each other entirely, that there was still so much that they didn't dare say yet, so many secrets they couldn't relinquish.

And there was the very real possibility of them never gaining the courage to break down each other's walls, the possibility of him never actually seeing what she hid behind impossibly beautiful eyes, but that was okay. Right there, right then, at that moment, he was writing about her and the parts of her he knew, the parts of her he _had_ seen. The parts he had already been granted access to and which he would therefore do his best to memorize.

Just in case those turned out to be the only ones he'd ever get to know.


	13. Another Empty Bottle

_**Chapter 13 - Another Empty Bottle**_

Paul sighed exasperatedly for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He took another sip of his coffee and scrolled further down.

How the hell was he supposed to tell if it had been Dawn whom he had been chatting with all along?

It sounded absurd, he knew, but if there was one thing that the course of his acquaintance with the blue-haired girl had taught him, it was that things could _always_ get crazier than what you thought was possible.

He was out of his mind to even consider it a possibility, but What If?

What if it _was_ her, did that mean she had asked for all that advice about _him_? And what if it was _him_ who had asked _her_ how to figure _her_ out? What if it was _her_ who had asked _him_ what to get _him_ for a gift?

He spared the typewriter on his desk a glance. This was all too confusing for him to even begin to comprehend.

Wondering What If did him no good when he had absolutely no idea how to find out for sure. He didn't even know if he _wanted_ to know for sure.

And if it turned out to be Dawn, _then_ what? Would he keep that knowledge to himself, would he somehow use it to his advantage, or would he reveal to her that it was _his_ fucked up family's story that she had been reading about online?

Just thinking of all the complications such a revelation would bring him, made him question if he really wanted to know.

The boy groaned and banged his forehead against the desk in aggravation.

Why did he ever listen to Reggie? Without him having pestered him to start writing again and, what was more, to fucking _post_ his work online, this would have never happened. He would have never started a correspondence with a complete stranger over the Internet or started wondering just _who_ his pen-pal might be. The prospect of _silence is my jam but i like rock too_ **NOT **being a stranger at all terrified him to bits.

The fact that Dawn herself still remained a mystery to him in some aspects was what stopped him from delving into the matter any further. He would accomplish absolutely nothing by torturing himself with things he had no way of finding out for sure, because he was scared what a possible success to his search might mean. The fatalist inside of him immediately conjured up a reality, in which his pointless snooping resulted in him losing both the online contact with his so-called friend and his friendship with the most amazing person he had ever come to know.

Paul shut off his laptop and rest his hands behind his head, closing his eyes briefly as her face took shape behind his closed lids and almost made him sigh in desperation (but he didn't, because there was still a grain of restraint he had managed to preserve from her as she slowly cut him open, ripped him apart and stripped him of his defenses, reshaping him until he could no longer recognize himself).

The girl with the too-blue eyes and the too-wide smile, who was so achingly beautiful and so painfully out of his reach. Untouchable. Too good, too pure, for a person like him to ever lay his hands on.

What's more, she was his friend. He could not risk losing that, not for a far-fetched assumption provoked by a few coincidental (or maybe not) buzzes of her phone. Neither could he risk losing that friendship by ever imagining that it might evolve to something more.

Because, as he with horror realized, it _might_. It was a distinctly alarming possibility, and it could not be ignored anymore. He knew he was standing dangerously close to the edge of that precarious cliff and nothing would be able to help him once he fell.

With every day that passed, with every smile she smiled to herself while he was secretly looking, his downfall was becoming less of a probability and more of a certainty. The only real variable was _when_. And he would do everything in his power to make sure it would be as close to never as possible. He hoped there wouldn't be something to push him off that cliff and send him falling down, towards what people romanticized as heaven, but what he deemed rock bottom.

He couldn't love Dawn. He couldn't permit her relevance to grow into its full potential, he couldn't allow her to strip him of everything he had ever stood for, until there was nothing left to remake.

He couldn't, but he wondered if that was something he was able to decide. To withhold love from someone you decide shouldn't have it yet, not when there is still a stockpile of unsaid things, of untold stories.

Paul wondered if it was possible at all, to prevent a fall you knew was coming.

He opened his eyes, irritated by nothing and everything at the same time, and decided to distract himself from his thoughts and his goddamn feelings, absently wondering if he wasn't falling already.

* * *

It was Thursday night and there was a big fat nothing for Dawn to do.

It was one of the days Paul had to stay behind after school and help Farrell with his administration shit, which meant aimless browsing through the TV channels while she lied sprawled on the couch in her living room, bored out of her mind. It wasn't like she hadn't tried to tag along with him, but he had, for unbeknownst reasons to her, thoroughly ignored her and just told her she would get in the way. When Farrell had stepped in and told her it would be best if she went home ("because it would be dangerous for a young lady like you to walk across the city after dark", but she just _knew_ there was something else), the only thing left for her to do was just that.

She wondered, later, whether her being at home that evening had been a good or a bad thing.

As she opened the front door and came face to face with her father, who had probably for the first time ever acknowledged the existence of their doorbell, she decided it was neither.

"Hello, kid," he greeted as he smiled at her for a fraction of the second, nervously, almost as if he was about to flee from the scene any moment. His eyes hovered above her head and quickly scanned the inside of the house, fidgeting in obvious unrest. He was sober in her presence for what felt like the first time in ages. "Is your mom home?"

It took Dawn a second to get out of her stupor. She blinked. "No. No, she's out of town on business."

"Ah," Jack Berlitz glanced around the yard, looking as if he was at a loss as to what to do. "Well, I better be-"

"You can come in and talk to me," the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She blushed under her father's incredulous gaze and added timidly, not daring to meet his eyes, "if you'd like."

He ran a hand through thick brown hair, gray strands visible here and there which made him look significantly older than he actually was. "Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat somewhat sheepishly. Dawn realized it was him she had inherited her nervous tics from. "Yeah, I'd like that. If you don't mind, of course."

She let him inside and closed the front door, taking in a deep breath. "So," she started uncertainly as she hurried to fold the blanket sprawled on the couch to make way for him to sit. He chose the armchair across from it instead. "Why are you looking for mom?"

"I just, uh, wanted to talk to her."

"About what?" Dawn asked, as nonchalantly as possible, as she offered him a glass of water. He declined with a wave of his hand, seeming as though he was selecting his next words carefully.

"About… well, nothing in particular. Actually, I wanted to ask her if it'd be alright if I…" his hazel eyes shot up to hers and then quickly moved away. "If you could come live with me for a bit. For like a week or something."

Dawn's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't be serious, could he? It's what she had been waiting for all her life, for her father to actually want to spend time with her. It almost sounded _too_ good to be the truth and she wondered if it was just another ruse to get a reaction out of her mother.

He had only ever asked her that once before, just after the divorce, and she had been _ecstatic_, of course, like any little girl with big hopes for her family that didn't pan out would be. But she also remembered how little and fragile Johanna had looked on their front porch as she watched them go that sunny afternoon all those years ago.

The brief period after her parents had separated had been the time when she had been showered with the attention she had been craving from them her whole life, and she had even been foolish enough to think that maybe cold Mommy and drunk Daddy living in different houses was for the best if that meant they wouldn't fight anymore and she wouldn't be caught in the middle. She knew now that she had never really been in the middle, it had never been about her at all; they only used her as a device to get back at each other and ignored her altogether when she couldn't serve that purpose.

"I don't… I don't think that would be a good idea," she murmured, the iron fist of uncertainty clenched around her heart. _Is that all I am to him still?_

Her father's face fell a little. "I… I understand. If you ever feel like it though, you're always invited."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," she smiled at him meekly, her eyebrows knit together as she tried to silence her inner conflict. _Does he really want to spend time with me? Does he care at all?_

"Dawn," her father spoke up with concern laced through his voice. She was so fucked-up emotionally that she had to doubt if that concern was even real. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah," she smiled more widely to convince him. She decided she would give him a chance. Who knew when she'd see him sober again anyway. "So, how are you?"

"A little stressed, but okay, I guess. Lily broke her leg and-"

"I didn't ask about Lily," Dawn snapped back quickly and more harshly than she intended to.

Her father studied her face for a moment. "The fact that I live with another woman doesn't mean I love you any less. You know I love you, right? Both you and your mother."

"I know it, but it's become too easy to forget," she whispered, trying not to let her bitterness seep through her voice. "If you love us as much as you say, then why did you leave us?" She looked up at him and didn't avert her gaze, expecting him to shift uncomfortably under her stare. Instead, he met her eyes calmly, without flinching or showing any sign of remorse or uneasiness.

"I didn't leave you, Dawn. You know that. Things with your mother weren't working out, it would have been more painful for all of us if I had stayed."

She stared at him, almost accusingly. "You love her, right?"

He nodded, a mixture of sadness and wistfulness in his eyes. "I do."

"Then why don't you fight for what you want?"

"I don't expect you to understand, Dawn. Maybe when you grow up you'll see that-"

"What will I see?"

"That some things aren't meant to be. Sometimes you just have to let go."

"That sounds wise," she said as she leaned back, feeling more pity towards him than anger. "But it's not very convincing when the man saying it doesn't follow his own advice."

Jack furrowed his brows in confusion. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't let go," Dawn stated simply as her eyes searched his face, the face of an unhappy person, who knew where his happiness was but was reluctant to fight for it. Because he thought it wasn't _meant to be_.

Her dad was the most tragic person she had ever known, she decided. Regret was written all over his face, a face that could be adorned by a loving smile instead, if only he allowed it.

If only he knew that he could.

"How do you know that I haven't?" He looked curious. She smiled sadly. He wanted to hear what she had to say. But she knew he wouldn't _listen_.

"You wouldn't come here every time you're drunk off your ass if you had," and at that he looked genuinely ashamed.

"Dawn, I… I'm sorry. I'm not the father you deserve," he rubbed his face, looking even more resigned than he sounded, and she saw the self-hatred this man held for himself, for what he had become. And the confines of his mind that told him he could never be anything else.

Her eyes hardened. His behavior was unacceptable for someone who was supposed to be setting an example for his legacy. "Why are you so afraid to make a change when it's obvious you're unhappy?"

He shook his head. "You're still just a kid. It'll be years before you understand."

"You're wrong. I'll _never_ understand. And I'll never believe my own life is anywhere but in my own hands."

He looked at her. "You remind me of your mother so much."

It didn't sound like a compliment, so naturally she didn't take it as such.

"My mother might not be the best parent, but at least she knows me better than you do," she spoke calmly and evenly. It was clear who was more broken of the two in that moment. "She would never tell me that giving up is an acceptable thing to do."

He was looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"I know you've already surrendered. I can't make you change yourself or your beliefs," she stood up from the couch, motioning that it was time for him to go. "But don't try to change me."

He shook his head and laughed hoarsely as he stood up as well. "I really am ashamed. My daughter has become a strong young lady all on her own and I don't even know the first thing about her."

He turned to face her when he was already out the front door and looked at her with something almost akin to pride. "I would never try to change you, Dawn. If you'd let me, I'd like to get to know you instead."

And he left.

Dawn shut the door behind him, blinking back a tear, and didn't even try to crush the hope welling up inside of her that he really meant what he said.

* * *

It was Thursday night and Paul was immersed in a strange feeling of tranquility and comforting apathy while organizing school files in Farrell's office.

The process was dull and repetitive, but it offered him an escape from his thoughts and that was more than welcome. He was particularly satisfied by a certain blue-haired girl's absence, because it gave him a chance to take a break from overwhelming, stifling feelings that he wasn't ready to confront, not just yet.

Farrell entered the room and it was only when Paul noticed he hadn't come alone that he interrupted his mindless activity. His eyebrows shot up in silent incredulity as he saw Kenny Kengo walk through the door, following after Farrell with obvious reluctance.

He narrowed his eyes at him - the obnoxious bully who had been throwing an increased amount of nasty remarks his way ever since he had become friends with Dawn. The brunet met his gaze with a look of equal distaste, but, strangely enough, didn't make any snide comments. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that there was a teacher in the room, although Farrell's presence had never stopped him before.

Paul merely raised an eyebrow at Kenny as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, where another pile of documents waited to be sorted.

"This is what you'll be doing for the rest of the evening, Mr. Kengo," Farrell informed him as he tip-toed around the small space to water a lonely pot by the window. The geranium looked yellowish and exhausted and just about ready to die, but the teacher hummed happily to himself as he inspected its leaves and poked its closed green buds (which Paul highly doubted would ever flower). "If you have any questions, you can turn to Paul. He has become very well acquainted with the whole process."

And he pranced out of the office, quietly singing Patrick Swayze lyrics to himself, while Paul just looked after him incredulously. Is this why Farrell had sent Dawn home? What the hell was Kengo of all people doing here?

He didn't vocalize his questions out loud, though, since he had zero interest in engaging in a confrontation with the _amoeba_ in front of him. Kengo started working on his pile of files silently, clearly having no intention of talking either.

There was tension in the air as the two worked in silence. Paul ignored the other boy's presence altogether as he concentrated on the task at hand, although he couldn't help but snigger quietly when he heard Kengo hiss and curse at a mistake he had made.

"What are you giggling at, Shinji?" The brunet snapped finally.

"Nothing at all, Kengo," he replied smoothly, meeting his glare with a cold gaze.

Kenny narrowed his eyes at him in dislike. "You've gotten way too cocky since you got tight with DeeDee. I'd say she's a bad influence on you."

"You'd say that and I still wouldn't care," Paul remarked as he refocused his attention to the pile of documents in front of him.

"How is it that you two came to be friends anyway?" The brunet asked suddenly. Paul looked up, surprised to see a fair amount of curiosity in his brown eyes.

"What's it to you, Kengo?"

"I just wonder." He leaned his elbows on the desk and edged his face slightly closer, narrowing his eyes. "Just how close have you and DeeDee gotten, huh?"

_Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell **you**_, Paul thought as he decided to deflect with a question of his own. "Why do you call her that?"

"What, DeeDee?" He sneered contemptuously. "Because she hates it. Reminds her of the good old times."

Paul glowered at him, his confusion outweighing his hostility. "What good old times?"

Kenny leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, a snide smirk crawling on his face. "She hasn't told you much, has she?"

He clenched his jaw. "What do you think you know about her that I don't?"

"Why, _everything_." Kenny's eyes were shining with mirth. "Don't you know? DeeDee and I used to be the best of pals."

He chuckled as he met Paul's glare with a look of amusement. "You know, I really thought I wouldn't enjoy this when Farrell made me come here. Now, I'm thinking he may have been right."

"Right about what," Paul asked through gritted teeth.

"About the talk he said I needed to have with you," Kenny inspected the pen between his fingers offhandedly, visibly enjoying the other boy's stupor.

"Why would Farrell want you to talk to me?" Paul leaned forwards and narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "What games are you playing, Kengo?"

Kenny looked unimpressed at the threatening glare Paul was sending him. "Don't be so dramatic, Shinji, I'm simply trying to pass the semester. Farrell read my essay, told me I was making good progress," at that he rolled his eyes, "and sent me here to talk to you, because 'I would benefit from it' and shit."

"I don't care about your benefit and I'm not interested."

Kenny grinned mischievously. "Predictably. But this is not just about me. Farrell thinks it would be interesting to see what you'd do after. And annoying and crazy that he is, I'm actually quite curious myself."

"Farrell has involved me in one too many of his nutty schemes," Paul cut off. "And if Dawn doesn't want to talk about something in her past, it's not your place to do it for her."

"Oh, you're so noble. Touching," Kenny put a hand on his chest mockingly. "But how could Dawn tell you this when she knows nothing about it?"

"That doesn't even make sense, Kengo," Paul scowled. "Go back to your work and shut up."

"Ask her why I stopped talking to her all those years ago after she had cried gallons on my shoulder. Just ask her," Kenny sneered. "You'll see she'll have nothing to say."

"If you want to explain your actions to her, then do so yourself. This doesn't involve me," Paul snapped, irritated by the other boy's persistence, and even more annoyed by the fact that his interest had been slightly piqued.

"And why would I explain myself to her? I don't want her to know," Kenny stated indifferently.

"But you want _me_ to know?" Paul scoffed. "Cut the bullshit, Kengo. Why would you tell me something, allegedly true, when you say you don't want Dawn to know? I could easily tell her and ruin whatever your stupid scheme is."

"Simple, Shinji. Because I know you're not going to tell her anything I tell you."

"Is that a threat?" Paul asked bluntly, a challenge in his eyes.

"Far from it," Kenny returned his gaze, seeming as equally determined. "You care too much about her to do so."

Paul must've raised his eyebrows in surprise because the brunet just rolled his eyes in irritation. "Come on, Shinji. I might be falling behind in my classes, but I'm not blind. And I'm not going to fail fucking Farrell as well, just because you're too chicken to hear what he wants me to tell you."

"Fuck you and Farrell, you're not going to make me pry into Dawn's life. Leave me alone," Paul spat.

Kenny narrowed his eyes angrily. "You're such an arrogant prick. Ever the hero, right? You care about her, so what? I should hand you a Nobel Prize, for sure. I did what I did all those years back to protect her and no one even knows about it. I don't deserve a prize, because I'm a prick just like you, but don't you act as if you're so high and mighty. Best Guy of The Year, miserably friendzoned and handling it well. Hooray for you," he clapped a few times with contempt visible in his brown eyes.

Paul glared at him. "You're so full of shit, Kengo."

"What, you don't believe me? Tell me, what do you know about her family?"

He gritted his teeth. "I know enough." _But she never actually told you anything, right?_

"You know _nothing_. You weren't the one who had to distract her with games of hopscotch while her parents yelled loud enough for the entire street to hear."

Paul promptly shut up after that. It was true. He knew nothing about that time of Dawn's life, about what her childhood had been like, about the events which had formed her into who she was. He knew nothing because she'd never told him. And he had never dared to ask.

"She never found out why I stopped talking to her. At least so I hope," Kenny bore his gaze into Paul's dark eyes. "Did you know my mother used to be a musician, Shinji?"

Paul had no idea how to react to that sudden question. He just shook his head wordlessly, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"She was, until I ruined her career," Kengo cast a wistful glance towards the dying geranium in the pot by the window. "She wrote a song about Dawn. It was a good one, I suppose, since she almost managed to sell it to a singer to perform. A sad song, which took an adult mind to understand. I didn't understand it, so I asked my mother about it the first time I heard her play it. And she told me, honestly, _brutally_, what every word meant." Kenny paused briefly. He studied Paul's face for a moment, before he resumed talking.

"It was basically about a girl with a shitty home life, who, desperate to escape the situation, eventually committed suicide," he continued evenly, emotionlessly. "Naturally, I was horrified. When she told me it was about Dawn, I got scared that she would end up killing herself just like the girl in the song."

Paul's head throbbed. Dawn? Killing herself? Never in a million years would he imagine the girl he knew committing suicide. Kenny, evidently, had once thought otherwise.

"I didn't want to put any ideas in her head, so I had to make sure that she wouldn't hear the damn song. My mother had made death sound like a beautiful solution, like the _only_ solution, and she actually saw Dawn as a helpless little girl who could never grow out of her family issues and learn her own value."

Paul was grateful to know that at present she was everything _but_.

"I begged her not to sell it, but it was the only deal she had managed to get in ages, so, naturally, she told me to bugger off. It took some sabotage, but eventually I did it. And I had to stop talking to Dawn, so that her personal drama wouldn't get exploited again. And so that she would learn to keep to herself. If it wasn't my mother, it would be someone else. Just imagine what would have happened if social services had received a call."

Kenny finished his sentence, seeming as though he had concluded his story, but he had yet to answer Paul's thousand questions. "She must have been important to you if you went through all that trouble. Kind of contradicts your current attitude towards her."

Kenny shrugged. "I got angry when I saw her carry on without me. I guess I still hadn't let go and it sucked to see her doing fine on her own."

Paul raised an eyebrow at him. "So you started bullying her?"

The brunet rolled his eyes. "According to Farrell it was the only adequate response I was able to formulate or whatever. Because of how my mother treated me and shit."

"Hm," Paul looked at the other boy thoughtfully, feeling a grain of empathy towards him. "We really do become our parents." He remembered the heated debate he had had with Dawn over _The Breakfast Club_ all that time ago and how she had presented that line as an argument in the movie's defense. He hated to admit that she had been right.

"Guess so," Kenny agreed as he ran a hand through his brown hair. "Farrell should be back any minute now. I suppose I get a passing grade now."

"You really don't want her to know any of that? She's strong now, you know," Paul muttered. "Her life isn't anywhere but in her own hands. She wouldn't be influenced by some song."

Kenny looked thoughtful for a moment. "Nah, I wouldn't want you to feel threatened by me." He smirked cockily as he turned towards the door of the office. "I know she doesn't need anyone watching over her anymore, but I hope you know it's your job now nevertheless." Paul just stared at his back blankly. "Tell Farrell to stop pestering me. He got what he wanted."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob and cast a brief glance towards Paul. "I still don't like you."

"Likewise," Paul replied as the other boy went out the door and into the hallway.

Probably out of Dawn's life too, he mused. It wasn't right to let it happen by keeping this new information to himself, he thought. But it wasn't something that he had the power to decide. People made their own choices and this obnoxious twat, whom he had blindly despised (not that he didn't deserve it, of course), had decided, for the second time in his existence, to remove himself from Dawn's life.

It was a decision Paul knew wasn't his to make. A rather selfless one too, all twistedness of the situation considered.

A decision that he himself would have never had the strength to make. He was an egoist when it came to Dawn, he realized, a girl who gave so much more with her warm smiles than what she received from him and his frowns. He was toxic for her, but he couldn't sacrifice their friendship just because he thought she would be better off without him.

That's where he and Kengo were different, he supposed.

One boy making sure she grew up alone so that she could be independent, so that she wouldn't need to count on anybody but herself, so that she would turn into this beautiful girl who was still haunted, but who would never be foolish enough to think that the world would be able to spin properly on its axis without her.

The other being lucky enough to enter her life when she had learnt to get by without any friends, but she wanted him to be a friend to her anyway.

(And in no way did Paul consider Kengo a threat. If anything, he was grateful.

Perhaps a little _too_ selfishly, but grateful nonetheless.)

**_So, yeah. Everyone has a backstory. The song this was inspired by is 'Another Empty Bottle' by Katy McAllister (I own nothing, if you haven't guessed already), so go listen to it if you want to get a better understanding of this whole thing. I quite like it, it fits perfectly into this kinda depressing background we have here (solely interrupted by Farrell's Patrick Swayze obsession and poor gardening skills! damn, I like this character, I like him a lot :D)._**

_**Oh, and I know that the original line in The Breakfast Club was "My God, are we going to be like our parents?" but what I used is pretty much the gist of it, so yeah. This chapter was originally a whole different thing, but what I had planned got pushed back for next chapter since Dawn's dad and Kenny kind of wormed their way in. Oh well, the finished product is always unpredictable. Tell me what you thought! :)**_


	14. Night Lights

_**Chapter 14 - Night Lights**_

Paul usually always answered the phone on the second ring, but tonight Dawn was annoyed to find that he wasn't picking up. She rolled her eyes impatiently and called again.

He answered this time, on the fourth ring, and begrudgingly too, if his irritated tone was any indication. "What, Dawn?"

"Nice to hear from you too, asshole," she greeted somewhat snappily. "Have you forgotten about my existence at all?"

"I have been busy," was the curt reply, but even through the phone she could detect the twinge of guilt in his voice.

"Yeah, well, tonight you're busy with me," Dawn informed him jubilantly, grinning as she heard his aggravated groan from the other side. "Did you get my text?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure how to reply to "_Pack up for an adventure, Sunshine. Tonight we leave The Shire."_

Dawn scowled. "So, what? You decide not to reply at all?"

"Generally I tend to ignore such little annoyances until they go away. Usually works, plus I heard it's a real healthy thing to do."

"Well, I'm one little annoyance that won't go away, no matter how stubbornly you ignore it."

"How comforting."

"Pack your shit, Bilbo, and come pick me up."

"Actually, I was planning to sleep tonight, if you don't mind."

"The thing is, I do mind. Come pick me up."

"You're joking, right? It's nearly eleven already."

Dawn sighed exasperatedly. "You must know by now that I never joke about an adventure."

"Dawn…"

"I'll be down on the porch in fifteen minutes and you better be there with a vehicle in tow. Forget packing, God knows you'll take forever, and we don't have that much time. Just bring your precious self, your truck and a blanket, if at all possible. I think it's going to be a cold night."

There was a pause and then a decidedly defeated sigh resounded from the other side. "Someday I'll stop involving myself in your crazy schemes."

Dawn smiled cheekily into the phone. "You and I both know that today won't be that day."

"I hope you're aware that I'm expecting some sort of reward in return for this slavery."

"Ah, but then it wouldn't be slavery."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Fifteen minutes, Sunshine."

"…"

"Paul?"

"That was the sound of me ignoring you, in case you couldn't tell."

"Oh please," Dawn snorted mockingly. "You couldn't ignore me if you tried."

"Tch. You're annoying."

"Love ya too!"

There were a few seconds of silence on the other side before the call ended.

* * *

Paul could make out the contours of her small figure, waiting in the dark driveway with what seemed to be a big-ass picnic basket in hand. She was wearing an oversized hoodie that he recognized as his, which she'd claimed as her own a while back and simply refused to return.

(And he didn't really have the heart or the desire to ask for it back. Maybe, just maybe, a very small part of him kind of liked seeing her wearing something of his, but that was something that he'd never admit to himself, let alone aloud.)

Her hair was casually braided back and she looked effortlessly beautiful as always, angelic exterior matching the kindness beneath.

Paul sharply drew a breath as his fingers twitched on the steering wheel. _To think of her as physically attractive is one thing, but thoughts like these you need to push out of your head. Self-control, Shinji. You can't afford to lose even more of yourself than you already have. Not to this girl. Not to anyone._

He exhaled and turned down the volume of the radio, currently blasting _Hotel California_, as he pulled his Jeep to a stop in front of the dark house. Illuminated by the weak porch light, Dawn looked surreal, almost like a mythical being, like a siren hidden in the shadows, calling to him, leading him towards his sure demise. The first feature that he could make out were her eyes, shining like two bright gemstones with the reflection of his truck's headlights.

_How did she talk me into this? I'm losing my mind already._

Dawn smiled at him widely and flipped her braid back as she tried to fit both herself and the huge carry-on she brought in the passenger seat. He eyed the big basket with the nicely folded checkered blanket on top, willing himself to look away from her face. "You're not carrying a murder weapon in there, are you?"

She regarded the basket with a contemplative look for a second. "A bit tricky, beating you to death with a sandwich. But we can give it a try if you want."

"Hm. It would be wrong to waste food."

Dawn laughed. "I completely agree. Okay, let's see... Here, take this!"

She held out a brown paper bag with triumph. Paul took it from her and examined it suspiciously. Big black hand-written letters read: PAUL'S ADVENTURE SWAG BAG.

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at Dawn, who was grinning at him gleefully. "Paul's Adventure Swag Bag? Seriously, Dawn?"

"Look inside!" she urged like an impatient kid, giggling childishly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes with pronounced irritation as he opened the paper bag and took out an object. "A headlamp? What are we, going mining?"… "A 'Dora the Explorer' lunchbox? You ran out of originality there, didn't you?"

Dawn just sat there and watched him, smiling.

He reached inside again and this time pulled out a small notebook with a pen attached to it, covered in obnoxious pink glitter. "_In case you get inspired,_" he read the little label aloud and felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I customized it myself! What do you think?"

"I think that you're insane," he responded quietly, glancing at her with a hint of fondness in his gray eyes.

"Well, I think that you could definitely use a dose of glitter in your life."

"Please tell me the ink itself isn't pink and glittery."

She just raised her eyebrows pointedly. "You insult me." She reached towards her seatbelt. "Now, I'd appreciate it if we started moving already. Don't want to be late."

He gave her a side glance as he pulled out of her driveway. "Late for what," he probed, but her only reply was a mysterious smile. "Care to tell me where we're going, at least? I kind of need a direction."

"Pull to the highway."

They drove in silence for a while. The landscape was getting more and more rural as the jeep glided further down the road. Paul was starting to get suspicious that Dawn was guiding them out of the city and decided to try again. "Am I taking an exit sometime soon or are we relocating to another town?"

"If you must know, we're going to the airport."

Paul furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You should have said so a tad earlier, dumbass." He snapped at her, irritated. "We missed the exit already."

Dawn looked outside the window. "No, we didn't."

Paul's eyebrow twitched. "Yes. We did."

She rolled her eyes. "Relax, you nerd, we haven't reached our destination yet."

He struggled to keep his voice calm, "Dawn. We passed by the airport a few minutes ago. This might come as a surprise to you, but those big lights you saw on your right weren't just floating in mid-air."

"Relax, would you? Our exit is right up ahead. There, you see it? Turn right here."

Paul was unprepared for the lumpy little road the Jeep turned on, and cursed under his breath as it hit a particularly big bump. "Is this it?" He growled grumpily and glared ahead through the windshield. "Is this the place where you murder me?"

"Don't worry, the sandwich is still in the basket." She opened the window on her side and peeped outside. "We're here," she chirped contently and Paul brought the truck to an abrupt stop in the middle of the dusty road.

Dawn closed the window, unfastened her seatbelt and sat up with her eyes aglow in excitement. "You can leave the car here."

More than a little bewildered, Paul gave his companion a quizzical look, as if saying 'What now?' Instead of giving him the clarification he expected, the girl checked the contents in her enormous basket hastily and asked, "What time is it?"

"Ten minutes to midnight."

"Shoot, we're going to miss it!" She quickly jumped out of the car and hastily put on a headlamp around her head, urging him to hurry up.

He frowned as he took his Adventure Swag Bag and locked the Jeep. "Miss what, a flight?"

She smiled slightly. "Sort of. Come on!"

His confusion only grew when he saw her take off on a small beaten track, almost hidden from view because of lush, unkempt grass. He hurried after her, hearing her shout "Hurry up! And put on your headlamp, so that we don't lose each other in the dark!"

Paul grumbled dejectedly and did as he was told, breaking into a jog in the process, trying to keep up with the moving light strapped on Dawn's head. She turned around and waited for him, urging him to hurry. When he reached her, she grabbed his arm and started running again, cutting through the grass and leaving the little path behind.

"We're almost there," she breathed out as she adjusted the basket in her other hand.

"Where the hell are you taking me," Paul protested as he blindly followed her, unable to make out anything of his surroundings. "There's nothing here."

She stopped all of a sudden and chuckled lightly. "I think we made it on time. Here, spread this blanket right here."

He looked at her in bewilderment, but obliged without a word. They sat down at the foot of a small hill, which would be more appropriately described as a swell in the ground. Dawn checked the time and sighed happily. "A few more minutes until it starts." She lied back and Paul followed silently, knowing she wouldn't reveal what the mysterious "it" was.

She turned her head towards him and smiled shyly. "I've wanted to show this to someone for a long time. Thank you for coming. Here, take this off." She reached out and removed the headlamp from around his head, brushing his bangs away from his face in the process, before getting rid of her own.

"Now what," he asked quietly, his eyes trained on her, set with a strange twinge of tranquility.

"Look up. Just wait for it."

They lied in silence for a few moments, before Dawn whispered almost inaudibly, "Do you hear it?"

Paul frowned in confusion. "Hear what?"

"It's getting louder," Dawn's voice was filled with anticipation. "Listen."

He heard it then. A dull roar was getting louder and louder with every second, and he felt the earth underneath him vibrate.

All of a sudden, he felt something warm touch his skin and it took him a second to register that Dawn had grabbed his hand in hers. "Don't close your eyes!" She shouted, but her cry was quickly drowned by the incredible noise that now reverberated in Paul's bones almost unbearably.

He felt her squeeze his hand tightly and a second later he was momentarily blinded by an ensemble of bright lights, which quickly flew overhead. He kept his eyes wide open and felt a cry rip from his chest as the plane passed over them and the roar reached its peak before steadily dying out.

The plane gained more and more height with every second that passed and soon enough it was a small twinkling light, barely visible in the distance.

Paul felt high on the adrenaline which had abruptly flooded his body mere seconds ago and heard Dawn's resonant laughter as a distant echo. "That was…"

"I know."

"That was fucking amazing," he whispered, still staring at the sky saucer-eyed.

"A few more are going to pass. Any minute now."

They didn't say anything after that, but as the next plane passed over them, and then the plane after that, their hands lay on the ground tightly entwined together, as though if they let go they were going to float away in opposite directions, ripped apart by the earth's vibrations.

"Thank you," Dawn spoke softly long after they had lost sight of the last plane that had passed overhead. "For sharing this with me," she sounded breathless. Paul dared a glance towards her and the image before his eyes was permanently imprinted in his visual memory.

Her cheeks were flushed red, her hair splayed out in the grass like some sort of elfin halo around her head, her eyes were alive with _something _and she was staring at him, as if trying to communicate words that the lips couldn't yet say.

"You're the one who brought me here," he murmured. "You did the sharing, not me."

"I know, I'm just…" she closed her eyes for a brief moment and then smiled at him beautifully. "I'm just really glad that I did."

He held her gaze for a long moment, before looking back towards the cloudless sky above. "How did you find this place anyway?"

"I…" she sounded hesitant. "I used to come here a lot with a friend of mine when I was younger."

"Kenny," The name unintentionally rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself, more like a statement than a question. He felt Dawn freeze beside him on the blanket.

She slowly sat up, as if unable to comprehend what he'd just said. "H-how did you…" she seemed unable to voice the end of her question as she stared at him in shock. He suddenly became very aware of her hand's absence by his side, and felt a dull ache in his gut.

"How did you know," she asked finally, in a quiet but firm voice. Even if it stung her to talk about this, he saw that she would do everything to keep herself controlled and collected, to keep him from finding out how close to home he had really hit.

"Something he said to me once," he replied evenly, trying to read her expression. Nothing. "In between insults during a brief encounter." It astonished him how easily the lie came to him. The ache got stronger.

Dawn averted her gaze and sighed with something akin to resigned sadness in her eyes. She looked almost melancholic and Paul couldn't tell whether her guard was up or down anymore. Abruptly, he realized that she didn't necessarily want to shut him out; it was the unpleasant feelings and memories that she wanted to protect herself from and this was the only defense mechanism she was familiar with.

"Were you close?"

"Yeah… At least I think so. I have no idea what went on in his head," Dawn murmured as she rested her chin on her knees. "It's so weird, you know. Trusting someone, having them know you, inside and out, and then the next moment they're just… gone. They don't care anymore."

Paul didn't know what to say for a second. "But in the end didn't you become stronger because of it? More independent?"

"Maybe," she looked at him and the sadness in her eyes was so intense that reflected through them he could see something broken inside from long ago. "But if the choice had been mine, I would have preferred being weak instead of lonely."

Paul studied her face closely for a few long moments. He suddenly felt the urge to share a piece of himself to her, to remove at least an inch from the stockpile of untold stories between them.

"I… I never got over my dad leaving us."

Dawn's eyes widened a fraction. The blue orbs were immediately flooded with compassion and understanding, as she silently prompted him to continue. And somehow that gentle, waiting look was all the nudge he needed. He exhaled sharply.

"I was so angry with him. I still am. Sometimes I feel the anger even stronger than it was back then. It's…" He paused and closed his eyes. "It's exhausting." It felt liberating to talk about his father after years of denying everything that had happened in his early childhood. He knew he was leaving a very important detail out, but the complete story was better left for another time. He glanced at Dawn again with a mirthless half-smirk. "Did I ever tell you how Reggie conned me into going to a therapist?"

She shook her head, her eyes trained on his.

"Anger management issues, that's what he said," Paul laughed humorlessly. "He told me that I needed an outlet for my feelings. And that writing would help."

Somehow her hand had found its way back to his. "That's how you started writing?"

"Yeah," he was looking at their hands on the blanket in contemplation. When he looked up, he found her looking at him with wonder. _What do you see, Dawn? What do you see that makes me worthy of being here with you at this very second?_

"It's very personal, isn't it? What you write," she inquired softly.

"It is. Privacy means nothing to Reggie, though. Knowing him and his big mouth I really shouldn't be surprised he told you." Paul paused, unsure. "You did find out from Reggie, right?"

"Yeah. How else could I have found out?"

He looked away and cleared his throat. "I don't know. Don't mind me, I'm just being paranoid."

"Hm." Dawn stared at him in hesitation. "Will you… show me sometime? Let me read something of yours, I mean."

Paul struggled to hide his shock. The silence was heavy and as it stretched on and on, Dawn was beginning to panic, wondering if she had pushed too far.

Everything was still for a moment, until Paul suddenly reached for his 'Dora the Explorer' lunchbox and took a sandwich out. "I'll think about it."

Dawn smiled to herself, immense relief washing over her. _We've really come far._

She took a sandwich as well and adjusted herself in a comfortable sitting position.

They ate in a comfortable silence under the starry night sky, both feeling the distance they had walked to get here and the long way they had yet to go.

The surrounding world was quiet and peaceful. Two planes flew overhead one after another, seemingly headed in the same direction. Paul and Dawn followed the twinkling night lights with their eyes.

Neither knew what their own exact destination was, but both were excited for the journey.

* * *

Paul frantically wrote before the words could slip out of his mind. The surge of inspiration had been so sudden that he'd had to excuse himself to some nearby bushes, undoubtedly leaving Dawn with the impression that he needed to pee. He narrowed his eyes at the paper in front of him; the obnoxiously white light of his headlamp was making him see colorful spots. He took one final critical look at the pink scribbles and put the pen and the notebook back in his Swag Bag with a sigh.

Squinting in the dark, Paul took steady steps towards the blanket, fully intending to insist on going home already since the night had gotten, as expected, mighty cold. To his surprise, he found Dawn lying on the ground, curled up like a kitten, fast asleep.

He noticed that she had rolled over away from the thick blanket and was sleeping unperturbed on the cold hard ground. He didn't want to wake her, but that didn't leave him with many alternatives. Quietly, he folded the blanket and put it in the big basket, looping it around his arm. He paused for a second and tried to shield himself with apathy, before approaching Dawn's sleeping form and picking her up gently.

She was almost weightless, tiny and light and his arms, and he tried not to pay attention to her scent or the softness of her hair as it brushed against his skin.

Paul focused on his surroundings, doing his best to retrace their steps back to the Jeep and soon enough he could make out its contours in the dark. Setting the basket on the hood of the car as quietly as possible, he turned his gaze to the sleeping girl in his arms and felt his heart race at the sight of her. She instinctively snuggled closer to him and released a sleepy sigh of contentment and he struggled to keep the last of his self-control. He clenched his jaw and occupied himself with the task of opening the door to the passenger seat.

Leaning down, he deposited her gently in the limited space and lingered with his face close to hers for a few long moments. She stirred a little and he stiffened, horrified that she was awake and aware of his shameless staring, but she merely turned her head without waking.

A strand of hair fell in her face and before he could stop himself, he reached out and brushed it away, his fingertips lingering on her face decidedly longer than what he deemed appropriate.

Dawn didn't stir. Instead she leaned into his touch and he watched as her pretty lips tilted in the smallest, sweetest of smiles.

And Paul knew that the battle was lost.

He couldn't love her.

The terrifying reality was, he already did.

* * *

It was near four a.m. when they drove back into the city. Dawn was sleepy, curled up in the passenger seat and staring into the darkness outside with half-lidded eyes, and Paul was almost reluctant to leave her in a house that he knew was empty. The car ride was silent, a strange atmosphere of serenity settled around them, which he knew would disperse once he dropped her off, and that was all the more reason to drown in it while he still could.

The Jeep moved smoothly on the road ahead. In it two people, as different as day and night, but still shockingly similar in the most unexpected ways, created a vivid contrast even in their silence.

Dawn was close to falling asleep. Paul had never been more awake.


End file.
